


All Your Gorgeous Colors

by Lediona



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: (I’m So Sorry), (like the absolute rarest of pairs), (well loosely based on this season but doesn't include the whole pandemic thing), 2019-2020 NHL Season, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, DSL, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minnesota Wild, Rare Pair, Rare Pairings, Road Trips, Sneaking Around in Hotel Rooms, googled use of Norwegian and Swedish, linemates to lovers, meddlesome captains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lediona/pseuds/Lediona
Summary: Mats hits a rough patch, moves down a line, and one road trip changes everything.
Relationships: Mats Zuccarello/Joel Eriksson Ek
Comments: 21
Kudos: 59





	All Your Gorgeous Colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waitandsea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitandsea/gifts).

> So. Listen, I totally get that you might be thinking “this is so random!” And you’d be right. It is. But I saw a picture of Mats hugging Joel and it became a whole thing that needed to happen. Did I set out to write a 29k fic about these two adorable idiots? No, I quite specifically said I was going to write a short 7k fic to ease my way into the world of hockey RPF fic. That clearly did not happen. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the result of my wild tailspin into this fandom and come to love Mats and Joel as much as I do. 
> 
> Thank you to my friends and betas who helped me get this written and listened to me yell about hockey boys far more than they may have wanted to! I love you all!
> 
> Please leave comments or come find me over on tumblr @lediona25! <3

“_Faen_,” Mats mutters under his breath as yet another shot goes wide, ricocheting off the boards with an emphatic, mocking bang. 

Failing has become something of a pattern for him lately, nothing is clicking; he’s missing shots, flubbing passes and making bad decisions. It’s been total shit, really, and now the coaches are huddled along the boards, speaking in low voices and pointing across the ice in his direction. Too aware of the extra attention, he struggles through the rest of the drills, cursing steadily in both Norwegian and English, neither language seeming sufficient to express his frustration.

Evason pulls him aside as he and Eric are heading off the ice. Eric gives Mats a tight smile as he heads into the locker room.

When they’re alone, Evason says, “We’re thinking about mixing up the lines. See if we can find some new energy.”

It’s not a surprise. Mats knew something like this was coming, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of dread that’s unspooling in his stomach. He’s too angry and disappointed in himself to speak. Instead, Mats nods.

Evason’s face is hard to read. “Going to try you on the third line with Marcus and Joel tonight,” he says. 

Well. 

No one wants to get moved down a line, but with the way he’s been playing, Mats supposes that the demotion is probably deserved. And, really, it could be much worse. Mats played on a line with Marcus earlier in the season and they worked together pretty well. He’s not had as much experience on the ice with Joel, but the kid seems more confident in centering his line. Even though he’s long accepted the fact that he’s probably going to be the smallest guy on the ice, both Marcus and Joel are tall, physical players, so he will be the odd man out on a big line. Fingers crossed he isn’t also the weakest link.

There’s no point in arguing, not that he even wants to, so with another nod, Mats says, “Okay, Coach,” and he heads down the tunnel.

—

The first period isn’t great. 

There’s a bit of miscommunication and he and Joel collide behind the net, both attempting to dig the puck out. The Oilers D-man gets his stick on it and Mats has to scramble up the ice to get into position after the turnover. 

When they get back to the bench, Mats hits the boards in front of him with his stick, annoyed and breathing hard. He pushes his helmet back on his forehead, grabs one of the water bottles, squeezing some water into his mouth, and is about to shout something about the play on the ice when he feels a tug on his sleeve.

“Zucc, I’m sorry for my mistake.”

It’s Joel and he looks so pleadingly sincere that Mats is almost tempted to laugh. 

“Don’t worry about it, Ekker. Next time just take out a guy wearing orange, okay?”

Joel grins at him then, white teeth sparkling like a toothpaste ad, and says, “Yes, okay,” and then turns back to the game.

Thankfully, their collision was only a momentary lapse and by the third, they’ve started to figure things out between them. Mats has a better sense of where to expect them to be, and Joel's managed to send some solid passes to both him and Marcus in the zone. Finally, with two minutes left, they’re able to put up some points when Mats finds Marcus in front of the net and he tips the puck into the top corner. 

Flinging his arms up in triumph, Mats skates over to the boards, where Marcus and Joel are already celebrating. He slams into them and Ryan and Jared are at his back a few seconds later. It’s an insurance goal, giving them a more comfortable lead for the remaining minutes of the game, and they end up winning with a final score of 5-3.

That assist is the only point he gets, but it is a point, and he hasn’t had many of those recently. Mats will take it.

—

Over the next few practices, he, Joel and Marcus work off the rough edges and things really begin to gel. Mats can feel it happening, even though he’s reluctant to talk about it or think about it too much in case it all goes wrong. They move seamlessly through drills and dominate on their line rushes. Joel is quiet for a center—quiet generally, really, unless he’s speaking rapid Swedish with Jonas and they’re giggling about some inside joke—but he’s decisive and has good instincts, and he’s able to create plays that throw off the D, especially given the differences in Mats' and Marcus’ sizes and styles of play. Marcus is a force in front of the net, muscling his way into position and cleaning up rebounds, leaving Mats to use his speed and agility to find openings for one-timers. 

It's a combination that works, and Mats sees the coaches watching them, nodding approvingly at their play. So the three of them are officially a line. 

On an unexpected off day following their win over the Canucks, Mats invites Joel and Marcus over to his apartment. He’s not done much hosting this season, still too much in shock over the loss of his home in New York to want to invite people into this new space. However, as the vet of the line, he feels like he should demonstrate his leadership and get them together for some bonding. Or something.

Mats looks around his apartment with a critical eye. The living room is only sparsely decorated, but it’s neat enough. He attempts to declutter the kitchen and throws his pile of shoes into the back of the hall closet. At his bedroom, Mats opts to close the door, hiding his mess from view. Although he’s nowhere near as messy as some of their teammates, he still doesn't want to be judged by the boys in comparison.

Marcus and Joel arrive at the same time, and Mats buzzes them up after jerking away from the intercom when Marcus shouted, “Zuuuuuuucc, let us up. I’m freezing my balls off.”

Pulling open the door to an insistent knocking, Mats greets them with an eyeroll and a fond but exasperated “hey, guys.” He ushers them through the door to kick off their shoes and shed their coats. The closet looks less pathetically empty as he hangs up their wet coats next to his own.

Marcus pushes a hand through his hair to brush off some snowflakes and pulls Mats into a hug before pushing him away, saying, “I brought beer. Where’s the kitchen? This way?” And then takes off through the apartment before Mats can answer.

Mats watches him go and then turns back to find himself engulfed in another hug, this time from Joel. Because Joel is such a quiet presence in the locker room, it's easy to forget he's as big as he is, but Mats is suddenly aware that Joel is nearly the same size as Marcus. Mats pats his back a couple times and turns his head so his nose isn't pressed into Joel's shoulder. 

When he steps back, Joel is holding up a plastic bag. “Snacks?” he offers. “I didn’t know what you would like, so I bought, well, lots.”

Taking the bag, he inspects its contents. It is an impressive assortment of snacks. In between packages of Swedish candy, his eyes catch on one package—“Wasabi peas?”

Joel flushes and then shrugs his shoulders. “I don't like them much, but you might. So I got them.”

Mats wrinkles his nose. Generally, he ignores the wasabi that comes with his sushi, preferring to not burn his sinuses out with the aggressive green paste. “No, thanks, they’re not my thing either. Don’t worry, we’ll make Moose eat them. Judging by what he eats at team meals, his stomach could handle rocks and battery acid.” Joel laughs, probably more than the joke really warrants, but Mats feels oddly pleased to have caused it, like they are innocently conspiring against Marcus. “Come on, this way.” He leads Joel back to the kitchen where he can hear cupboards and drawers opening and closing.

By the time they find him, Marcus has cleared space in the refrigerator for the beer he brought and taken out three cold ones from what was already there. He’s also pulled out some leftover chicken, which he’s eating from the container with a fork, looking far too comfortable in Mats’ kitchen for someone in it for the first time.

“It’s not polite to go snooping through someone’s cupboards, bud.”

“Whatever. You guys were taking too long and I was hungry.” Marcus shrugs and takes a sip of one of the beers on the counter. “What are we doing? Movie? Chel? Who’s playing today?”

Mats has no idea, but Joel pipes up to say, “The afternoon game is Blackhawks and Bruins.”

Mats has no interest in watching either of those teams, so he makes an executive decision and grabs the two remaining beers, passing one to Joel before heading into the living room. “Let’s see what’s on Netflix.”

“Yeah, Netflix and chill,” Marcus says with a leer.

“Shut up, Moose.”

Marcus just sniggers and settles himself in the chair, propping his feet up on the coffee table, leaving the sofa for Mats and Joel. Mats picks up the remote and starts flicking through titles, pausing occasionally when one of them voices interest. Finally, five minor arguments and a thrown pillow later, they settle on _Anchorman_. It’s not Mats’ favorite, but he’s willing to make a concession if it’ll get them to agree on something.

Marcus leans back, settling deeper into the armchair, once again looking very at home in Mats’ space. “Where are those snacks, Ekkers?” 

“Oh!” Joel exclaims, scrambling off the sofa and disappearing back into the kitchen. He returns, bag in hand. “Here you go.” He drops the entire thing in Marcus’ lap, who flails in surprise and nearly spills his beer.

After shooting Joel a glare, Marcus begins rummaging through the bag. “You know, you may look all sweet and innocent, Eks, but it’s all just a front, isn’t it? You’re just as much of an asshole as the rest of us.”

“Only to you, Moose” Joel replies immediately, looking smug despite the blush staining his cheeks.

Mats snorts.

“Is that any way to treat your liney? Hit ’im for me, Zucc.”

“No.” There’s no way he’s siding with Marcus on this.

“You’re both awful, and I’m not sharing these with either of you,” he says, clutching the bag to his chest.

Mats raises an eyebrow. “Joel bought them. I’m pretty sure he’s got a claim.”

Beside him, Joel nods. “Yes, throw me the paprika chips, please.” 

“Paprika? What the hell?” Marcus asks, his face shifting into a comical look of disgust.

Joel looks over at Mats, like _can you believe this guy_, and they both crack up. Paprika-flavored anything is the best. 

“You’re an uncultured American, bud. You wouldn’t understand,” Mats says after they’ve stopped laughing. “Now stop holding them hostage and let those of us with more refined palates enjoy the paprika chips.”

Marcus huffs and launches the bag at Mats’ head. Seeing as he’s a professional athlete with pretty quick reflexes, Mats easily plucks it out of the air, opens the bag and holds it out to Joel. They each grab a handful of chips and settle in to watch the film. 

After half an hour or so, Mats gets up to retrieve more beer and passes them out to the boys. On the screen, Ron Burgundy is being a ridiculous asshole, but it’s absurd and distracting and Mats finds himself laughing along. He’s relaxed enough that when Marcus says something other than another line from the movie, Mats is surprised. 

“Hey, Zucc, what’s up with the boxes?”

Mats follows Marcus’ eyeline to the row of moving boxes that still sit in the corner of the living room. He’s been meaning to unpack them for months and maybe hang up some pictures too, but he’s lacked the motivation. Each time he thought about it, he kept picturing his apartment in New York and how different it feels here, so eventually he gave up trying altogether. Now though, having other people see the unfinished state of his place after so many months of living in Minnesota, he feels a bit embarrassed by it, like he should have made more of an effort.

“They’re the last ones. Just haven’t gotten around to them yet,” Mats replies, aiming for casually dismissive.

Marcus gives him a knowing look and Mats is suddenly reminded that despite his loud and brash act, Marcus is a smart guy. “Maybe you should get to them. Stick around for a while. We’d like that, right, Eks?”

Joel looks over at Mats, all big-eyed and earnest, and says, “Yes, definitely. I want you to stay.”

Mats takes a sip of his beer to hide his smile. “I’ll think about it.”

—

Maybe their line bonding night was the final element needed to cement their cohesion as a unit because they are playing particularly well in practice the following day. Mats feels himself vibrating with confident energy as he glides across the ice, footwork precise and vision focused, reading and anticipating plays as they happen in front of him.

“Moose!” Mats shouts, swivelling around Greg and tapping his stick on the ice. 

Marcus releases a sharp pass, tape to tape, and the second it’s on his stick, Mats spins towards the goal, deking to the right before dragging the puck back towards the center of the ice. Greg manages to regain his position and puts pressure at Mats’ back, pushing him away from the net. Out of the corner of his eye, Mats sees Joel in an opening and flicks a no-look pass to him before clearing out to give him an open shot on goal.

Before he can even turn around, the puck is in the back of the net. A quick, clean snipe. He hears Al’s stick hit the ice and his roar of exaggerated frustration before he says, “Fuck you, Ekky. Nice shot, bud.”

Joel is grinning and pointing in Mats' direction when Mats finally locates him on the ice. “Nice pass,” he says, completely ignoring the fact that he’s just scored a beautiful goal.

Mats shakes his head and wraps him in a hug. “Whatever, man, I was just lucky to find you. That goal was all you. How about a few of those against the Avs?”

Joel laughs happily and hits Mats on the shoulder, the only place he can reach with his arms pinned between them. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Mats releases him and turns away from the boards so he has an audience. “You hear that, boys? Ekker's going for a hatty tomorrow!”

The guys start to holler and Joel immediately turns red and starts to sputter. “I didn’t say that!”

“The Jewel is feelin’ confident. I like it!” Jordan crows, sliding to a stop next to Joel and throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Go on, little buddy, get that hatty.”

Mats watches Joel push away from Jordan, all pretend annoyance and flushed cheeks, and with a grin, flicks his stick against Joel's shin pads as he skates over to the boards to get some water. 

Joel doesn’t get a hat trick, but he does get a goal and an assist on Mats’ third period goal, leading them to a 3-1 win over Colorado.

After that win, their line starts to rack up goals and assists. The increased production brings more and longer shifts. Mats feels like he’s practically buzzing from the rush of it. These are the moments when hockey is easy, when he loves it more than anything and can’t imagine ever not playing. He wants to keep pushing, keep scoring, keep celebrating each point, each win. 

It’s probably the first time he’s been truly happy on the ice since leaving New York. Business is business and all that, but the Rangers had been his family for so long that suddenly finding himself on two new teams in the span of six months had been a shock to the system, and it had taken a toll on his game. Dallas hadn't been a good fit, even though he'd tried his best to stay positive during those few months there. Minnesota is better. The team is great, the cold, snowy winter is familiar, and he can find krumkake and other things that remind him of home. Now that hockey is fun again, he feels more settled in his life here.

—

“Jewel, did you hear what your man Brodes said about your hair?” Matt says from across the room as they’re dressing for morning skate.

Joel glances suspiciously at Jonas and pats a hand over his curls. “No?”

Jonas whips a ball of tape at Matt. “You are throwing me under the bus, Dumbs.”

Matt just laughs. “You’re the one who said it on camera, bud.” He turns back to Joel and says, “He said you look like Marv from _Home Alone_.”

Al snorts from his corner of the room. “That’s pretty harsh, J-Bro, comparing this beaut to Marv, but it does make Halloween easy for you next year, eh, Ekkers?”

“In that case, he was full of costume ideas.” Matt turns around and slaps a hand on Mats shoulder. “He also called you Frodo, man. Get yourself some hairy feet and a ring and you’re golden.”

“They asked me about hair!” Jonas exclaims. “About who had the best flow!”

“So comparing your teammates to an idiot burglar and a hobbit was the way you went?” 

Mats crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at Joans. “And is that a comment about my hair or my height?”

“Both!” Eric shouts, and Mats reaches out to shove him as he cackles loudly.

“Our little Norwegian hobbit,” Matt says, pulling Mats into a cuddle. “But I think Hartsy got the worst of it.”

Jonas’ stall is right next to Ryan's, so Ryan reaches over and pulls Jonas into a headlock. “What’d you say about my hair?”

Jonas breaks down into giggles and his face is pressed into Ryan’s chest, but he manages to gasp out, “Lord Farquaad!”

The room erupts in laughter and Ryan shoves him away. “The short dude from _Shrek_? You asshole!”

Jonas is still laughing, red in the face. 

“Lord Hartsy! I like it,” Eric declares. “I think we should keep that one.”

Then the guys are bowing and saying ‘Lord Hartsy’ in increasingly bad British accents, much to Ryan’s outrage. Mats turns back to his stall to grab his pads and notices Joel running a hand over his hair. He sits down next to Joel and nudges him with his elbow.

“Don’t listen to him,” he says, reaching up to pull on one of the curls, letting it slip through his fingers and spring back up. “The curls are cute.”

Joel looks at him for a minute and then says, “Oh, for cute.” His face splits into that big, stupid grin of his, like he’s so proud of himself for remembering that particular Minnesotan phrase.

Mats shakes his head in mock disgust. “You’re spending too much time with Al and Zach. Going native on us.” But he can’t help smiling back.

That night, their line absolutely crushes it, combining for seven points in a 7-1 rout of the Stars, and for the first time in way too long, Mats gets the red helmet at the end of night for his two goals. He puts it on to a chorus of whoops and shouts of ‘Zuuuuccc’ and Joel is grinning at him from across the room. Mats holds up his hands as though to silence the crowd, but he doesn’t have much to say beyond an enthusiastic “let’s keep it going, boys!” 

“Best of the year!” Eric yells back at him and then someone presses play on the music and _The Waka Waka Song_ blares through the speakers as they gear down. 

—

The next morning, they fly out to Detroit and head straight to Little Caesars Arena for a short skate, running through a few drills and a scouting report on the Wings’ D. Afterwards, Mats showers quickly, thinking about food and a nap, and has just pulled his t-shirt over his head when Mikko appears at his stall.

“We will go to lunch,” Mikko says, no question in his voice. Mats glances around to see if maybe he’s talking to the room generally, but there’s no one else around and he’s got his captain face on, focused solely on Mats.

“Oh, uh, sure.” 

Mikko nods, satisfied, and Mats hurries to pull on his coat and gather his things to follow Mikko out of the visiting locker room. 

Mikko leads him to a bistro not far from the arena. They walk in silence. 

It’s not that he’s never hung out with Mikko before. The guys were good at including him in any team events and outings from when he first arrived in Minnesota, and Mikko takes that sort of thing seriously. But Mats has never gone out with him, just the two of them. It puts him on edge, like he’s about to be scolded by an older brother. 

The hostess leads them to a table and leaves them with menus and the knowledge that the soup is French onion and the special of the day is a baked cod. 

“Have you been here before?” Mats asks, hoping to jumpstart a conversation as he scans over his menu. 

Mikko nods, not looking up. “A few times, yes. It’s convenient, and better than hotel food.”

Mats hums in agreement. From the menu, it seems as though the restaurant does indeed have decent food. He chooses a superfood salad and a pesto pasta with grilled chicken. It isn’t terribly exciting, but it’ll get him enough calories to last him through a hockey game.

“And there aren’t many other choices nearby,” Mikko continues, which is true; this area of Detroit seems to be populated mostly by fast food joins and sports bars. 

They drink their water and Mikko asks him if he’s found any favorite spots near his apartment in St. Paul, making some recommendations of his own, and they share bits of news about guys they both know, eventually settling into something resembling a casual conversation. 

Mats relaxes further when their food arrives, when he can focus more on shovelling pasta into his mouth than figuring out what they’re going to talk about next. Mikko, though not usually one for meaningless chit chat, seems perfectly happy to talk about whatever, so Mats leaves it to him to direct the conversation. 

Which he comes to regret as they’re nearing the end of the meal and Mikko says,“You’ve been playing well.”

The compliment is sudden and unexpected. Mats shifts uncomfortably. “I—yeah, thanks. It’s been a few good games. Just took a while to put it all together, you know.”

“And you are liking your new line?”

“Yeah, definitely. Things are clicking for us now. Moose and Ekker make it easy.”

Mikko’s eyes narrow, and suddenly Mats is filled with anxiety again. 

“I think maybe you give Joel the wrong idea.”

Whatever he’d expected Mikko to say, it isn’t that. And he also has no idea what Mikko means. “The wrong idea about what?”

“He is young, Mats. It’s probably best to stop the teasing, eh?”

Mats frowns. He jokes with all the guys, doling out chirps and dragging them for every little thing, but it’s never mean-spirited, and he’s certainly never felt like Joel was uncomfortable with any of it. He casts his mind back over the last few weeks to see if he can remember any moment when he’d been too harsh, but nothing comes to mind. 

“Has he said something to you?” Mats asks, avoiding Mikko’s eye and fidgeting with his water glass, leaving behind a wet trail across the table.

“No, it’s just an observation. But I know him.” That is apparently the final word on the matter.

The whole team is a bit protective of Joel. It's something Mats picked up on early on with the Wild. It's not that Joel can't hold his own; he's never afraid to get into it with guys along the boards or push them around in front of the net. But he's also just, well, not a dick like a lot of players are in the league. Joel likes playing clean hockey and doesn't seem to want to take part in any cheap shots or dirty tricks. Like earlier in the season when Eichel tried to fight him for no good reason and Joel didn't even drop his stick or take off his gloves because he was so surprised it was happening in the first place. Mats suspects that even if Eichel had challenged him properly instead of just going for him, Joel would have found a way to avoid the fight. 

So yeah, it's not that he can't hold his own, it's that Joel doesn't want to get into it and the team seems to try to maintain that bubble of hockey purity around him. Maybe Mats has mistakenly crossed some sort of line the guys have with Joel. Mats isn't sure what he did or when, but Mikko is his captain and if he thinks if Mats has pushed it too far, unintentionally or not, then he’ll just have to watch himself going forward. 

He meets Mikko’s eye and nods.

Mikko nods in return and then turns to flag down their waitress. He waves off Mats’ offer to pay.

Once the bill is settled, Mikko stands and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s get back to the hotel.”

—

Following his chat with Mikko, Mats is annoyingly aware of everything he says and does around the team, particularly when Mikko is there watching him. He's never questioned his relationship with his teammates before, but he pulls back a bit around all the guys, Joel in particular, and tries to be more aware of how he's interacting with them. He doesn’t avoid Joel exactly, but he just spends more time than usual watching him, on the ice, in the room, when they travel, just to see if he ever looks uncomfortable with any of the jokes that are sent his way and especially how he acts around Mats. And from what Mats can see, Joel is the same friendly and focused guy he’s always been. He may be quieter than most of their teammates, but that's just part of his personality. 

As the days pass, Mats is more convinced that Mikko was just being overprotective of Joel with his warning to lay off him. Nothing about Joel's behaviour sticks out to Mats and it becomes harder to worry too much about it. After all, Joel is giving him his usual smiles, fist bumps and celly hugs, so Mats is pretty sure everything is fine between them. 

They are coming off the ice following a close win over the Preds at home when his last doubt is driven away. Joel is standing near the boards, high-fiving guys as they pass by to go down the tunnel. He looks so happy and excited that it's almost contagious, so Mats launches himself at Joel with a yell, throwing his arms around Joel's neck. Instead of just hugging him back, Joel lifts him up, surprising a squawk out of Mats. Mats clings to Joel's shoulders, bringing his legs up around his waist for stability. 

Joel is laughing into his neck. "Good game, Zucc," he says with one final squeeze before depositing Mats back onto the ice. 

Joel might just be enthusiastic about their win, but Mats decides that it’s an indicator that they’re all good. If Joel is comfortable with him, then it'll hopefully translate into even better chemistry on the ice and continue this streak. And seeing as they're in a tight race for the wild card spots, then that can't be a bad thing. 

—

Throughout February, they keep winning more than they lose. They’re building some momentum; the fans can feel it, the team can feel it. 

With a win over the Sharks, the second game of a three-game West Coast road trip, they move into the first wild card position and it’s hard not to feel excited, like this season might turn into something after all. 

Now, however, Mats is slumped against the elevator wall, listening to the other guys chat about their plans to go out later. 

“You coming with us, bud?”

Mats glances over at Jordan, Alex and a few others who are looking at him hopefully, their faces reflected to infinity into the mirrored surfaces of the elevator. The sight of them, thrumming with too much energy, leaves Mats feeling really old. The tweaked muscle in his lower back doesn’t help the argument that he’s still young enough to go out with the boys. He wants nothing more than his bed, an ice pack and a shitty action movie. 

“Sorry, boys, not tonight. I need to ice my back if I’m going to be in any shape to practice tomorrow.” 

The guys nod in friendly commiseration, grumbling about injuries for a minute before quickly going back to making their plans. The elevator reaches their floor and they spill out of it, going in opposite directions to their various rooms. 

Mats fishes his keycard out of his pocket and slides it into the electronic lock, the green light flashing a second later, but he pauses in opening the door because of a shuffling sound behind him. 

It’s Joel, looking ever-awkward in his game day suit. He offers Mats a shy smile and says, “I don’t feel like going out either. I thought, maybe, we could watch a movie, if you, uh, want some company?”

In truth, he’d been looking forward to an evening by himself; road trips can be fun, but they can also be incredibly draining. And had it been anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated in telling them to fuck off, but there’s something about Joel that makes it impossible. It’d be like turning away a sweet, earnest puppy. Besides, the dark circles under Joel’s eyes look more like bruises than ever, so maybe he’s as tired as Mats feels. Instead of turning him away, Mats says, “Yeah, sure. Give me a minute to change and then come over.”

Joel agrees and heads down the hallway to the room he shares with Jonas. 

Once inside his own room, Mats slowly peels off his suit, moving gingerly to not tweak his back, and pulls on a t-shirt and sweats. He has time to take a piss, tidy up some of his things, which are already scattered around the room despite just checking in earlier that day, and pull a couple of water bottles out of the mini-fridge before there’s a knock on the door. 

“Hey, man. Come on in,” Mats says, pushing the door open wider and stepping aside so Joel could pass by him into the room. Joel is now similarly dressed in sweats, and looks infinitely more comfortable than he did in his suit. 

“Okay, thank you.” Joel says, always unfailingly polite. “How is your back?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, but I’m just gonna run to get some ice to make up another ice pack.” As if to prove that it’s not actually okay, his back twinges as he bends down to retrieve some plastic bags from his duffel on the floor and Mats hisses. Righting himself, he waves at the remote on the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. Feel free to scroll through the channels to see what’s on.”

Joel rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. “Give that to me.”

“What?”

“The bags. I’ll go get the ice for you.”

Mats shakes his head. He’s not so hurt that he needs his teammates to do simple things for him. “No, it’s fine. It’s only bad when I move in one particular way.” 

“That’s just silly. No one will think less of you or something because you didn’t shuffle down the hall to get your own ice.”

Mats start to protest, but Joel just steps in front of him and plucks the plastic bags from his hands. “You relax and choose the movie. I’ll be back.” And with that he’s out the door again, flicking over the latch on the door to prop it open so he can get back in. 

Mats hovers awkwardly in his own room for a minute before chucking the bottles of water onto the middle of the bed and clambering slowly onto it to find a somewhat comfortable position. He flicks on the television and brings up the guide to see what movies are on. He is in no mood for something serious and scrolls right passed _Saving Private Ryan, Revolutionary Road_ and _The Post_. 

Joel comes back in. Kicking off his slides, he crawls up onto the opposite side of the bed and passes the ice to Mats.

“Thanks,” Mats mumbles, shoving the ice behind his back and resettling himself against the headboard. 

Joel waves him off. “What are we watching?”

“I haven’t found anything yet. Just a bunch of stuff I don’t want to watch.”

Mats continues to scroll, and they veto one after another, ultimately choosing one of _The Fast and the Furious_ movies. It’s loud and stupid and takes the minimal about of energy to focus on. He grabs one of the waters for himself and hands the other to Joel and they settle in.

“What are the boys doing, do you know?”

“Oh, uh, Jonas said something about a club, but I didn’t know it. Maybe it was someplace famous?”

Mats shrugs. There are undoubtedly lots of popular clubs in San Jose, and he’s been dragged to a couple over the years, but it’s not really his scene. Clubs are only tolerable when he’s well on his way to drunk. Otherwise, he’d much prefer a comfortable bar where he can chill out with a drink and actually hear the person next to him, which makes him sound even more like the old guys on the team, but whatever, it’s true. 

Instead, he says, “It was a good win. They deserve a big night out. Hopefully they all make it onto the bus in the morning.”

Joel is quiet for a minute, then asks with a mischievous glint in his eye, “Who do you think would miss it?”

Mats looks over at him. “Should we make a bet?”

Joel laughs, bright and open. “Yes. Who are you choosing?”

Mats considers his teammates for a moment. “Did Duby go out? If anyone’s going to be late in the morning, it’s him.”

“Okay,” Joel says, and then pauses, clearly thinking through his choice. “I can't decide between Gally and Greener. Hm, I’ll go with Greener. He was very excited from his goal, maybe he’ll drink too much to celebrate.”

Mats reaches out a hand. “You’re on.”

They shake hands, Joel’s long fingers engulfing Mats’ smaller ones, and then turn back to the movie. 

Fifteen minutes later, the ice has mostly melted, so he gently removes the bag of ice from behind his back and leans over to drop it on the floor, too lazy to get up and bring it into the bathroom. Before he can release the bag, Joel reaches over and stops his arm.

“Wait, I can help. Give it to me.”

Joel grabs the bag of melted ice and leaps off the bed, disappearing through the bathroom door. Mats can hear the last bits of ice hitting the sink and the water running down the drain. A few seconds later, Joel comes back and settles on the bed again. He’s closer than he was before, their shoulders pressing together, despite the miles of empty space on the far side of the mattress. 

Jason Statham gets into another car chase and Mats sinks further into the pillows, letting the intense club music that accompanies the scene sweep over him, lulling his brain into a mushy state that’s only compounded by the physical exhaustion he feels. 

Beside him, Joel shifts, dropping an arm around Mats’ shoulders and stretching his long legs out. Mats watches as Joel digs his toes into the blanket, flexing and relaxing his toes. The cuddle surprises him, but Mats is drowsy, so he finds himself relaxing into the heat of Joel’s body, and blearily watches the movie flashing across the screen.

On screen, a car explodes and Mats jumps slightly, which he feels marginally embarrassed about considering the predictability of this movie. It’s only made worse when Joel laughs.

“Are you all right?” Joel asks, a teasing smile evident in his voice.

Mats tips his head up to attempt a glare. “Shut up. It just startled me.” 

“Okay.” Joel smiles and just keeps smiling at him, some unspoken message flitting across his expression. Mats can’t quite figure out what it is and he casts a glance over Joel’s face to see if he can catch a trace of it again. It's because he’s scrutinizing Joel’s face from a short distance that he can easily follow the slow movement as Joel leans down towards him.

And then Joel kisses him.

Reflexively, Mats raises his hand to Joel’s shoulder, to push him away or pull him in, Mats isn't sure. Instead of doing either, he just lets his hand hover lightly over the thin t-shirt that Joel’s wearing, his attention focused on the softness of the cotton and the warmth of Joel’s skin through it instead of the gentle, yet confident movements of Joel’s lips against his own.

The sheer unexpectedness of it causes Mats’ brain to go offline. He still feels hazy, but instead of the post-game lethargy of five minutes ago, he’s floundering under a layer of shock. After a few seconds, his brain gets with the program and he’s able to zero in on the press of Joel’s lips on his.

Joel is kissing him. _Joel_ is kissing him. Holy shit, Joel is _kissing_ him. 

Suddenly, Mikko’s warning makes a lot more sense. He wasn’t concerned about Mats chirping Joel; he was worried about him leading Joel on. Because Joel wants to kiss him. Apparently. 

And it appears that Mats is okay with that idea if the way his mouth is moving against Joel’s is any indication, and Joel is _really_ into it, judging by the breathy little gasps he’s making and the restless wandering of his hands. Mats wants to just sink into it, lose himself in the feeling of Joel’s eager kisses, but Mikko’s words keep coming back to him and he feels the need to be responsible about this. Joel is, after all, still pretty young. Young compared to Mats at least. Jesus. 

Mats makes an inquiring noise into Joel’s mouth and finds Joel’s jaw with his fingers, easing Joel’s head back. Which may have been a bad idea because Joel looks altogether indecent; his normally full lips are red and spit-slick and his eyes are dark and half-lidded. Mats runs a hand through his own hair and tries to gather his scattering resolve.

Joel’s brows draw together. “What’s wrong?”

Releasing a breath, Mats forces himself to meet Joel’s eye. “Nothing,” he says, but it comes out a bit uncertain. He clears his throat and tries again. “There’s nothing wrong. I just. . . didn’t know.” That last bit comes out a bit breathy.

“Didn’t know what?”

Mats isn’t sure how to answer that. 

There seem to be a lot of things he didn’t know, like the fact that Joel is into guys or that he’s out to Mikko and maybe others on the team or that he is into Mats specifically. 

“I didn’t know this was a possibility.”

"Really?” Joel sounds surprised and pulls back slightly, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion, and says, “But I have been flirting with you for many weeks."

Mats gapes at him. "You have?"

Joel laughs brightly. "Yes. And you have been flirting with me."

He says it so simply and obviously that Mats feels like he's taken a stick to the head. He stares at Joel. Has he been flirting? He doesn't think so, but Joel obviously does and Mikko clearly picked up on it, too. It's like everyone else has read the play and is racing towards the goal while Mats is still trying to pick himself up off the ice.

In front of him, Joel's features twist with uncertainty for the first time all evening. His voice is small and hesitant when he asks, "Weren't you?" 

"I—" Mats starts, intending to deny it because surely he hasn't been flirting, but then all kinds of small moments getting from the last couple months flit through his brain and he can't pretend that he was treating Joel just like any other teammate. When they are together, Mats enjoys having Joel’s wide-eyed and eager attention, and he likes to be the one to make Joel smile and laugh. Well, fuck. "Yeah, I was."

Joel looks immediately relieved, and he shifts closer again, eyes dropping down to Mats’ mouth. "Good. Can I kiss you again?" 

_Helvete_.

He probably shouldn't do this. If he was a stronger man, he’d tell Joel to go back to his own room, but he’s not, and Joel is nearly sitting in his lap with those lips that are just begging to be kissed. How is he supposed to say no when Joel is asking so sweetly?

He can’t say no, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches up to thread his fingers through Joel’s wild curls, pulling him down to kiss him again. He can’t resist the temptation of Joel’s bottom lip and he sucks at it for a few seconds, teasing it with his teeth, before plunging his tongue into Joel’s mouth.

And then they’re making out, and Mats can’t remember the last time he did this with someone. There’s no finesse or game play. It’s frantic and messy and fun. Without having realized it, Mats finds himself flat on his back with the delicious weight of Joel’s heavily-muscled body pressed along his side, a solid reminder that this isn’t his ex-girlfriend or some woman he picked up at a bar or even those brief stolen kisses with boys during his years playing in Norway and Sweden. His fingers map out the differences in Joel’s body; hard, flat chest, strong arms, broad back, and a thick thigh wedged in between Mats’ legs. 

Joel makes a pleased sound into Mats’ mouth and Mats tries to chase it with his tongue, thinking, perhaps a bit deliriously, that the sound must have a particular taste. It doesn’t, but his quest for it has resulted in Joel making a steady stream of whimpers and moans into his mouth. 

Mats can feel his hands getting sweaty where they rest on the back of Joel’s neck and he’s also aware of his t-shirt sticking to his chest, but he doesn’t want Joel to move away so they can cool down. The heat of him is intoxicating. Wanting more, Mats pulls at him so that Joel’s body covers his own, pressing him firmly into the mattress. 

There’s something exciting and almost freeing about being pinned down by someone so much bigger than him. He always thought he might hate it, after so many years of putting up with chirps about his height, but he doesn’t. He really doesn’t.

Joel’s hips have started to rock, ever so slightly, against Mats’ leg, and the movement combined with the pressure of Joel’s thigh between his own legs is enough to stir Mats’ dick into action. He moans with the heady rush of arousal and grinds his hips up to meet Joel’s, and he is rewarded with a gasp and Joel pulls his mouth away, panting into the side of Mats’ neck. 

“Holy shit,” he gasps. 

The English curse sounds strange coming from Joel, who normally chooses to use Swedish when he’s swearing on the ice. Mats grins, pressing a kiss into Joel’s curls, the only part of him Mats can reach, and works his hands under the hem of Joel’s t-shirt to rub at the small of his back, encouraging the movement of his hips.

Joel’s mouth has latched onto Mats’ neck and he’s suddenly worried about Joel lingering there too long and too enthusiastically. “No hickeys,” he says, swatting at him. Joel huffs and plants another kiss on the spot, before moving to nuzzle behind Mats’ ear and trail kisses along his neck down to his collarbone, which apparently is highly distracting because he doesn’t notice Joel’s wandering hand until it cups him through his sweats.

“Fuck, Joel!” Mats says, thrashing slightly and unable to stop his hips bucking up into Joel’s hand. He was pretty happy grinding against Joel’s thigh, but the touch of Joel’s hand is so much better.

Joel’s long fingers work his dick for a while and Mats feels like he’s melting into the mattress, but then Joel stops and moves his hand to the waistband of Mats’ sweatpants. 

“Yes?” Joel asks, tipping his head back to look Mats in the eye. 

He looks gorgeous, well kissed and eager, and he’s asking to put his hand on Mats’ dick and there’s no way Mat is going to turn down that offer. “Yeah,” Mats says, voice rough. "Yeah, go for it.” 

He lifts his hips to give Joel a bit of help as he works Mats’ pants and briefs down over his thighs. For a second, Joel doesn’t move. Then, in a quiet, thrilled voice, he says, “Oh, you’re big.”

Mats’ flustered laugh gets cut off when Joel wraps his fingers around Mats and begins to jerk him off. The second Mats feels his touch, he knows he isn’t going to last long. He reels Joel back in, kissing him messily, and then wrenches his mouth away so he can look down and watch Joel as he works him over. 

The sight of it is almost too much. Joel is right—Mats is pretty big for a guy his size, but Joel’s hands are even bigger and he’s able to cover so much of his dick. Mats is kind of mesmerized by watching the head of his dick disappearing and reappearing in Joel’s grip, red and leaking. 

He can feel his orgasm building, thighs shaking and abs clenching in anticipation. When it hits him, Mats throws his head back into the pillow and groans, deep and stupid and satisfied. It takes a couple minutes for the fuzziness to leave his brain. When he opens his eyes, Joel is grinning down at him and Mats can’t not kiss him again.

Joel’s hips are still snugged up against him and Mats realizes he should maybe return the favour. “Do you, uh, need a hand? I can, you know. . .” Mats says, making a vague gesture with a loosely curled fist.

Joel flushes and huffs out a laugh. “No, I, uh, I came already.” At the admission, he turns an even brighter shade of red, but he doesn’t look embarrassed about it, more pleased, proud even. Something about his big grin and easy acceptance hits Mats in the chest; the fact that Joel unashamedly got himself off just humping Mats’ thigh is really hot. His dick twitches again at the thought.

“I should maybe do something about this,” Joel says, acknowledging his come-covered hand. He heaves himself off the bed towards the bathroom, walking gingerly due to the mess in his pants. 

Mats flails about to find a tissue to clean off his stomach. Pulling up his sweats, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and a quick glance at his phone confirms that it’s nearing curfew. He wonders if it’s going to be awkward now in that way that mornings after so often are, but Joel looks happy and smiles easily when he exits the bathroom, so Mats pushes away the worry. 

“Jonas will be back soon,” Joel says, a smug expression stealing across his face. “I need to shower before he sees me.”

Joel and Jonas are close, and Mats wonders how well Jonas can read him because Joel currently has that blissed out look of someone who just got laid. How much a shower will help disguise that, Mats doesn’t know, but it’s worth a shot. 

He stands up, adjusting his sweats around his waist. “Yeah, can’t have you smelling like that when your roommate gets in.”

“Maybe he just thinks I was jerking off?”

Mats laughs. “Not if he catches you leaving my room.” His heart rate picks up at that; he’s never had to sneak a teammate out of his room. In a more serious tone, he adds, “We probably need to be careful here. I mean, we don’t usually hang out on the road, so the guys might find it weird if you’re in my room.”

Joel nods. “No, that is a good point. I, uh, don’t usually do this, so I don’t know how it goes.”

“I have no idea either.”

“Really? You’ve been in the league a long time.”

Mats punches Joel in the shoulder. “Way to make me feel ancient, you little shit.” He softens it with a smile so Joel will know he's joking. 

“I didn’t mean it like this!” Joel exclaims, looking horrified that he’d insulted Mats anyway. “It’s just that I’ve only been up for two years, I’m still trying to figure things out. I know there are other gay players, but everyone keeps it very quiet.”

Mats gets it. There are always rumors of players who hook up with guys, some who are just an open secret in the league, but it always felt easier to Mats to keep the not-totally-straight part of himself hidden away. He didn’t want it to be gossip fodder or to worry about being outed. 

“I’ve only dated women since being in the show,” he admits with a shrug. “Less complicated.”

Joel nods, his mouth pressed into a firm line. “This isn’t an option for me. Well, maybe I could pretend for the look of it, but that doesn’t sound very good.”

Mats heart clenches at the idea of Joel having to pretend to be something he’s not, and the fact that he’s unwilling to do so makes him a hundred times braver than Mats could ever have been at his age. “You shouldn’t have to hide,” he says, looking into Joel’s eyes, trying to convey how much he means that. “We’ll just be smart about it, okay?”

“Yes, okay,” Joel agrees, and Mats pulls him in for a quick hug. They pull apart after a minute and Joel looks happier. “Will you see if the coast is clear, is that what you say?” he asks. “And then I will go shower and jerk off again.” The coy look Joel gives him following this pronouncement is enough for Mats to consider doing the same. 

“Jesus, Joel,” Mats says with a groan. “Yeah, let me check the hallway.”

Thankfully, it’s clear. So with a final chaste kiss, Mats pushes Joel out the door and watches him walk down to his own door for a second before ducking back inside so he’s not caught staring if any of his teammates were to suddenly come back.

Mats does shower, and contemplates rubbing one out, before deciding he’s too tired. Instead, he crashes into bed, naked and content.

—

Mats wakes up late the next morning, even for him. He scrambles to throw on some clothes and toss a few things into his bag before heading down to breakfast. 

He spots Joel’s curls immediately and he’s glad that Joel has his back to him because he does an awkward little stutter step at the sight of him. Joel is sitting at a table with Jonas and Mikko, and Mats gives them a wide berth, not wanting to put himself under the scrutiny of their overly-observant captain or Joel’s best friend.

Despite not yet being hungry, Mats forces himself to put a slice of brown toast on his plate—it’s not fjellbrød, but it’ll do—along with some smoked salmon. He also pours a cup of black coffee and then stumbles over to where Zach, Ryan and Eric are sitting and thumps gracelessly into the spare chair.

Zach looks half asleep over his rubbery hotel eggs, but he glances up and mutters, “Morning.” 

Eric is marginally more awake, indulging Ryan in conversation, who, ever the farm boy, is annoyingly alert this early in the morning. Ryan pauses in the middle of whatever he was saying to nod to Mats. “Hey, Zucc, how’s the back?”

Oh, right. Mats hadn’t even thought about it this morning. Apparently all he needed to feel better was an ice pack and an orgasm with a teammate. He coughs, trying to prevent himself from blushing over that memory, and says, “Yeah, it’s fine. Probably get John to look at it before practice today. Hopefully it doesn’t seize up on the flight though.”

“Take it easy if you need to. No use pushing it today if it means you’ll be out of commission for the game.” 

Mats would roll his eyes if it was anyone other than Ryan, who delivers these types of statements genuinely, without any hint of condescension. “Yeah, Sutes, I know. I’ll be good.”

Ryan nods and turns back to Eric and launches back into their conversation about some fishing gear that Mats has no interest in. Letting their conversation flow around him, he’s able to force down his breakfast in peace.

Mid-bite, his phone buzzes against his thigh, so he sets a slice of toast back on his plate and brushes the crumbs off his fingers before retrieving it from his pocket. 

The screen shows a message from Joel. 

//_god morgon_ :)//

Mats smothers the grin that threatens to break out across his face and risks a glance across the dining room. Joel isn’t sitting at his table anymore and Mats’ eyes wander around the room to find him standing near the juice station, full glass in hand, looking at Mats in what he probably thinks is a stealthy way. 

Mats risks a wink and Joel smiles at him for a second before turning around to head back to his table. Waking up his phone again, Mats types out a reply //_Den beste morgenen_.// before tucking his phone back into his pocket and pretending to listen to the conversation at the table. 

He finishes his measly breakfast and rushes back up to his room to change into his suit and finish packing before they’re due to leave. Because of his late start, he’s the last one onto the bus, not Duby, Gally or Greener.

Joel is sitting in his usual aisle seat with Jonas next to him in the window. Mats attempts to school his face into a bland expression and allows himself to make eye contact with Joel only briefly, but the look between them hangs heavy and intense regardless, so he forces himself to look to the back of the bus. As he passes, he feels Joel’s fingers brush his thigh and he suppresses a shudder at the touch. He sits down across the aisle from Marcus and tries to act normal, but it’s a challenge.

Joel is going to be a distraction. A welcome one but a distraction nonetheless. 

—

Mats manages to keep his shit together for the rest of the day simply by putting as much distance between himself and Joel as possible.

On the plane to Los Angeles, he sits at the back, playing cards with Matt, Jordan and Ryan. He struggles to focus on the game, however, and proceeds to lose spectacularly. He's grateful that they’re not playing for real wagers, otherwise he’d be out a lot of money. The guys rip him for it, but he takes their chirping good-naturedly. 

As they wait to get on the bus, he latches onto Jared and pretends to have an interest in snowmobiling, just so that he can be absorbed in their conversation when he has to pass Joel in the aisle of the bus. Once again, he feels the whisper of a touch against his leg, only this time he lets his knuckles drag across Joel's shoulder in response. 

When they arrive at the Staples Center for practice, Mats escapes to the training room to have his back poked and prodded by John. Sitting on the bus and the plane had caused some of the stiffness to return and he’s a bit tender if he twists in a certain way. 

John finishes up and pats Mats on the shoulder. “It’s a light practice today so let’s see how you’re feeling afterwards. I’ll give you something to reduce inflammation and you’ll have repeated dates with an ice pack this afternoon, but you’ll be fine for the game tomorrow. Just don’t do anything stupid, eh?”

“I’ll take it easy, JW. I promise.” Mats jumps down from the table and makes his way out the door, throwing a “thanks!” over his shoulder. 

He’s hoping that his session with John took long enough that most of the guys already will be dressed and on the ice when he gets to the locker room. Unfortunately, everyone seems to have a relaxed attitude about today’s practice so they’re still hanging about in the room, chatting and pulling on final bits of equipment. Mats makes his way to his stall and keeps his head down as he starts to dress, pulling on his shin pads and hockey pants. 

Standing up to grab his shoulder pads off their hook, he catches sight of Joel across the room. He’s taping his stick, hands moving quickly and precisely to maneuver the roll of tape around the blade of his stick. Mats has to tear his eyes away as the memory of how those fingers felt wrapped around him last night flickers through his mind. He’s absurdly grateful that they have to wear gloves so he won’t be able to see Joel’s hands during practice and risk an inappropriate boner. Jesus, this is not what he had anticipated for this road trip.

It’s better on the ice, where he can just focus on playing hockey and push any indecent thoughts about his linemate out of his head for a couple hours. He manages to not make a fool of himself when Joel skates over to celebrate a particularly pretty line rush, holding out a glove to tap Mats’ and giving him a quick smile before Marcus, thankfully, forces some distance between them by throwing his arms around them both and shouting raucously. 

After practice, he goes for more treatments on his back and his promised ice pack, dawdling in his return so that Joel might be already waiting for the bus or at least be out of the showers and mostly dressed. His luck holds and there’s no sight of Joel in the room, so he’s able to get dressed in peace and without springing a semi at being faced with a naked or nearly naked Joel.

Back on the charter bus on the way to the hotel, Mikko stands up and declares, “Team dinner tonight. You’ve got thirty minutes to dump your stuff and be back down in the lobby.”

Room keys are passed out and the guys shuffle off in small groups to drop off their luggage in their rooms. Mats is in the elevator with Al, Jared and Greg, chatting about their favorite places to go out in LA when his phone buzzes. 

//what room are you in?//

Mats reads the message and quickly closes WhatsApp by reflex to prevent any of his nosey teammates from seeing it and tries to calm the spike of adrenaline coursing through his body at the implication of Joel’s question. 

They spill out of the elevator on their floor and Mats fumbles with his keycard at the door. When he finally gets it open, he dumps his bags on the floor and sits down on the bed. Swiping open his phone, he stares at Joel’s message.

He has a choice here. 

It’s too late to pretend that he isn’t attracted to Joel and that he isn’t into the idea of getting off with him again, but there are so many reasons why they probably shouldn’t do this. The fact that they’re teammates for one, the age difference for another, and then there’s the whole challenge of being anything other than straight in the NHL. Besides, Mats has a sneaking suspicion that neither of them are going to be very good at hiding it, so their teammates are inevitably going to find out. He doubts any of them would be awful about it, especially not with Mikko’s hard line of what’s acceptable behavior in the room, but he’s not sure if he’s ready for other people knowing about him—he’s never been out to his teammates before—or if Joel wants to deal with that either.

In the end, the thought of Joel boldly saying “I have been flirting with you for many weeks and you’ve been flirting with me” is what decides things for Mats. He’s not going to give in to fear and worry. 

Taking a deep breath, he taps out his response.

//Room 312//

The reply comes almost immediately. //see you after dinner :)//

Mats briefly wonders if he has time to jerk off before he’s supposed to meet the team downstairs, but decides it’s not worth the hassle. Besides, the idea being on edge through the meal—and the possibility that Joel will be in a similar state—makes him shiver in anticipation. 

—

They get back to the hotel after dinner and Mats shares a tension-filled elevator ride with Joel and five of their teammates. Thankfully, none of the others pick up on his mood and he bids them a quick “night, boys” as they leave the elevator. He glances at Joel, which is a mistake because Joel is doing nothing to hide his excitement, and Mats has to disappear into his room before his knees give out from sheer, impatient lust. 

After rather haphazardly hanging up his suit, Mats throws on a well-worn grey Frisk Tigers t-shirt and some sweatpants and chugs a bottle of water, more to calm his nerves than from any real thirst. Then he paces. 

The knock comes nine minutes later—he’ll admit to staring at the clock on the bedside table—and he forces himself to walk at a reasonable pace over to answer the door. With a deep breath, he pulls it open and there’s Joel, smiling at him with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and legs bare beneath the hem of his basketball shorts. 

Mats steps back and nods his head into the room. “Get in here,” he mutters, with a quick look up and down the hall before closing the door. 

They stand in the narrow space between the bathroom and the closet, grinning at each other, because now, suddenly gifted with a private moment with Joel, Mats doesn’t know what to say.

Joel breaks the silence, finally, when he says, “We don’t have much time. Jonas will wonder what is taking me so long.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said I was going to find blue Gatorade since there wasn’t any in the hotel mini-fridge.”

As excuses go, it’s oddly specific, so Mats frowns at him. “What’s he going to think when you go back without a blue Gatorade?”

“I’m not worried.” With another grin, Joel pulls one of his hands out of the pocket of his hoodie to reveal a bottle of blue Gatorade. “I took one from the arena.”

Like he’d planned this. 

Mats reaches out and takes the Gatorade from Joel, looking down at the bottle in his hands and laughs. How many bottles have they drunk over the years and yet now, this particular bottle holds a different and much greater significance. Ever since texting Joel his room number this afternoon, Mats had known what was going to happen, but he’d made no effort in devising a cover story for their meetup. And yet here was Joel making up an excuse to his road roomie so that he could sneak into Mats’ room, going so far as to source props to complete the ruse. 

Mats is beginning to think that Marcus was right—that Joel’s whole sweet and innocent thing is just a front, something he wields to get what he wants, but underneath he’s confident and sneaky and determined. Mats walks back into the room and places the Gatorade on the desk, turning and gripping the edge of it with sweaty hands, nervous and giddy in equal measure. 

Joel kicks off his slides and follows him farther into the room, but he’s still standing a few feet away, and suddenly that’s too far. Mats releases the desk and twists his hands in the front of Joel’s hoodie, reeling him in and staring, for a brief moment, at the hollow of his throat where it shows above the neckline of his sweatshirt, before pushing up onto his toes and brushing his lips lightly over Joel’s, like a reassurance and a reintroduction. 

When they pull back, Joel says, “hi,” and gives him a goofy grin. 

Mats laughs and tugs at his hoodie. “Hi to you, too.” 

Joel looks pleased and then says, “I barely saw you today. I think, maybe, you were avoiding me.” It’s said with a bit of a smirk, no traces of uncertainty in his voice, and Mats can feel himself blushing. Joel has a way of saying things so bluntly, where other people would dance around them or bury them in layers of passive-aggressive denial. It’s refreshing and yet completely surprising; Mats feels wrong-footed by it every time. 

“Well, I guess I was,” Mat says, summoning the nerve to be equally as forthright. “I'd say sorry, but it was the only way I could prevent myself from being totally obvious in front of the other guys. If I couldn’t see you, then I wouldn’t be thinking about how much I wanted to do this—” and he releases the front of Joel’s hoodie, sinking his fingers into Joel’s curls instead, and pulls his head down to kiss him more soundly. 

Joel makes a happy noise and twines his arms around Mats’ lower back, drawing him in close, and his basketball shorts do little to hide the pressing hardness of Joel’s interest. The knowledge that Joel is hard because of him, for him, is heady and Mats ruts up against him, unable to keep his hips still. 

Last night had been wholly unexpected and it’d happened so quickly that Mats hadn’t had any time to think about what he wanted to do or even to savour it. They still won’t be able to take their time tonight, given the fact that Jonas is expecting Joel back soon, but Mats is determined to be a bit more proactive tonight. 

“Wait,” he gasps into Joel’s mouth and pushes him back, dragging his hands down Joel’s chest to the hem of his sweatshirt. “Get this off.”

Joel is eager to comply and whips his hoodie in record time. He’s not wearing a t-shirt underneath and Mats reaches out, intending to stroke the soft skin of Joel’s chest, but his hand is knocked away as Joel tugs at his shirt. 

“You too,” Joel says, and grasps the hem to pull it over Mats’ head and tosses it to the floor. 

Now that they’re both shirtless, Mats can’t resist it and runs his palms over Joel’s ribs, pulling him in so that they are chest to chest, his hands roaming across the muscles of his back. He’s so smooth and warm and feels so good under Mats’ fingertips. Mats takes advantage of their positioning to nuzzle his nose into Joel’s neck, inhaling his scent, and to drop kisses along his collarbones. Joel sighs and tips his head to the side, giving Mats better access, and curls his arms around Mat’s shoulders so he’s completely wrapped up in Joel’s embrace.

Muffled against Joel’s chest, Mats says, “Jesus Christ, you feel good. I knew you would.” It comes out like a groan. 

Joel pants out a laugh. “You thought about this?”

“I haven’t thought about much else since last night,” Mats admits, allowing his hands to continue their roaming exploration of Joel’s back. “Did you jerk off when you got back to your room?”

“Yes,” Joel says with a shrug. “This morning too. Couldn’t resist.”

Mats does groan then; the idea of Joel getting himself off repeatedly because of Mats is a fucking lot. His hands come to a stop at the waistband of Joel’s shorts and he runs a finger along the line of skin just under it, teasing. “Can I?” 

This time, Mats really wants to get Joel naked.

They’ve been in locker rooms and showers together hundreds of times now, and Mats is aware of what Joel looks like naked in that same vague yet familiar way he is with all his teammates; Joel is all powerful thighs, soft curves, and smooth skin, tan and nearly hairless. But now that they’ve shared an orgasm together, Mats is really interested in getting to actually see and touch him.

Joel shivers. “Yes.” 

At Joel’s assent, Mats pushes his shorts down, pulling the waistband away at the front to avoid his erection. They fall to the ground with a soft sound and Mats backs up to take in the sight of Joel standing bare and unabashed in his hotel room. He’s got a thatch of blond curls surrounding the base of his dick, which is dusky pink color that contrasts with Joel’s tan skin, and small, tight balls that are nestled behind it. Mats’ mouth waters. 

He nudges Joel onto the bed and Joel sprawls backwards onto his elbows, legs falling open, a totally provocative display if it weren’t for the easy, unaffected way he does it. “Fucking hell,” Mats says, palming himself through his sweats, “You look really good, too.”

Joel just smiles and pushes himself farther up onto the bed. “Are you going to join me?” Which makes Mats smile because it would sound downright corny coming from anyone else, but Joel says it so earnestly, like he wants nothing else in the world, so it comes off as seductive to Mats. It’s like being presented with a personalised fantasy on a silver platter. Joel is here, naked and on his bed, wanting Mats. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Mats says, voice rough. He quickly shucks his sweats and climbs up onto the bed so that he’s hovering over Joel on his hands and knees. He takes a minute to just look at him, focus skittering across his shoulders and down his chest, too tempted by the miles of smooth, tan skin on display. Joel lays still, letting Mats stare, but then must get impatient because he tugs Mats down so he’s sprawled on Joel’s chest. Mats lets out a surprised breath, feeling every single point of contact on his skin. 

It’s almost too much, and Mats seeks out Joel’s mouth, like a kiss might anchor him in this new reality. Joel kisses him back eagerly and it’s easy to lose himself in the slick slide of his lips, while Joel’s big hands roam up and down his spine. They finally come to a stop on his hips and Mats allows himself to be pushed around, Joel guiding him so that their dicks are perfectly aligned together. Mats’ groan is echoed by Joel.

Mats feels like an absolute idiot for waiting so long to do this with another guy and he pushes up off his elbows so he can look between them and see how they slide together, which only serves to make his heart rate ratchet up because it looks pornographic, the way his foreskin moves with every shift of his hips from where it drags alongside Joel’s dick. It feels amazing, but the position isn’t quite right to get off. He wants to be on his knees between Joel’s legs so he can thrust and is just about to start moving to make that happen when Joel rolls them over onto their sides, tangling their legs together, holding Mats close, and attacking his mouth once again, lips sliding messily against each other. 

Mats pulls away to get some air. In this new position, he can hold onto Joel’s hip, fingers pressing into tender skin, and rut against him, panting breath into Joel’s shoulder and feeling Joel’s lips against his ear. He feels a bit out of his mind, the powerful combination of sensations just flattening him and knocking any coherent thought from his head. 

“More,” he gasps, nipping at Joel’s collarbone. He feels frantic. “I need more. Your hand, I just—can you, please?”

Joel drops his head to Mats’ temple, breathing heavily; Mats can feel shaky exhales against his cheek, but Joel murmurs, “Yes, of course. _Jag har dig, vännen_,” and then his free hand is sneaking between their bodies and wrapping around them both. 

At his touch, all of the air is punched from Mats’ lungs and he grunts out, “Fuck.” 

Joel’s strong fingers encircling them provides a tight counterpoint to Mats’ increasingly uncoordinated thrusts, and he can sense his organsm approaching like a fucking freight train, powerful and unstoppable. He comes with a cry and it feels like it goes on forever until he’s left shaking and gasping against Joel’s chest, Joel’s hand gently working him through it.

Finally, Mats cracks open his eyes and looks down into the narrow space between them. His stomach is covered in come yet again, not that he minds, and Joel’s hand has stilled on Mats’ spent dick, while his own is still hard and leaking. Mats has enough presence of mind to know that he wants to get Joel off this time, so he releases his death grip on Joel’s hip and pushes Joel’s hand out of the way, closing his own fist around Joel, slick with precome and Mats’ own release. 

It’s an awkward angle, but he’s able to find a rhythm and it must feel okay because Joel tightens his arms around Mats’ back and his legs start moving erratically over the comforter. 

Joel is unsurprisingly quiet in bed, but he whispers “_herregud_!” breathlessly when he comes and the sound of it makes Mats’ skin tingle. 

They lay wrapped up in each other for a couple minutes as their heart rates come back down. Mats wishes they could just fall asleep like this, drying come be damned, but somewhere down the hall, Jonas is expecting Joel to come back with a blue Gatorade, which is still sitting on the desk like it was watching over them having sex. 

Lifting his head to peer over Joel’s shoulder, he notes the time on the clock. Joel needs to go. He drops a few kisses along his shoulder before nuzzling his face into Joel’s sweaty neck. His lips taste like salt when he pulls away to say “it’s getting late.”

Joel just grumbles in response.

Mats pokes him gently in the stomach, smearing some of their combined come around with interest. 

“Can I take a shower here?” Joel asks after a minute, sound marginally more alert. 

Mats laughs, which promptly transitions into a yawn. “I’m pretty sure we established last night that we can’t send you back to your room smelling like sex. Go shower. I’m just gonna stay here and sleep.”

“But you are a mess also.”

“Yes, well, so is my bed, so we’ll be disgusting together until morning. Plus it’s your fault.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all. You are the one who wanted to get my clothes off, yes?” With that, Joel extricates himself from Mats’ embrace and Mats flops face-first onto the bed, which earns him a swat on the ass.

He hears the shower turn on a few seconds later and falls into a doze. He’s roused by a hand on his shoulder, rolling him over and away from the wet spot on the bed. A warm towel drags across his stomach and he realises Joel is cleaning him up.

“I was actually going to shower,” he mumbles.

Joel pats his stomach. “Now you don’t have to.”

Mats cracks open an eye. “_Takk_.”

“_Varsågod_. Now get under the covers and go to sleep.”

“I didn’t expect you to be bossy.”

“I didn’t know you would be so, uh, I am not sure how you say it, like stupid from an orgasm.”

Mats snorts. “Come drunk?”

“Yes, that. You are come drunk.”

“So what if I am? It’s also your fault.” Mats manages to coordinate his limbs to pull the bedding down and climb under it, but then he immediately feels weird about sitting naked in his bed, while Joel is standing fully clothed next to it, ready to leave, so Mats blusters, “Give me a kiss and then get out of here.”

“Now who is the bossy one?”

“Just kiss me.”

Joel does, only briefly, much to Mats’ disappointment, and then shoves his hands in the pouch of his hoodie, stepping back and heading towards the door.

“Be careful, and don’t forget your Gatorade.”

“Oh!” Joel steps back and swipes the bottle off the desk, giving Mats a sheepish smile. “Good night, Mats.”

“Night, Joel.”

Before disappearing out the room, Joel turns and waves the blue Gatorade at him in farewell. 

—

Mats would like to say that he’s less of a mess the next day, but objectively, he’s a disaster. Not so much in the can’t function, spaced out, completely useless sort of way, but more in the hyper aware, everything is bright and distinct and vivid, full of pent up energy sort of way. And while he’s got a reputation for being the teammate who’s always got a smile, likes a laugh, and always has a chirp on the tip of his tongue, if the strange looks the guys are giving him are anything to go by, he’s pretty sure he’s overdoing it. He tries to stifle it, to focus on what he’s supposed to be doing, but it’s really hard, okay? 

Especially when Joel is across the room, doing an equally bad job of containing himself. Mats knows that there’s no way that anyone has figured out what’s going on between them on this roadie yet, but if his excess of energy isn’t a major tell, then Joel’s megawatt smile, near constant giggling and not-so-subtle flirtatious glances will surely give them away soon. 

But Mats is also really digging the smiling and giggling and flirting, so he doesn’t necessarily want them to stop. So basically, they’re fucked because they’re both idiots, and while Joel has youth on his side, Mats really should be better at this, smoother, cooler, more composed. But he very clearly is not. 

He gets through morning skate solely because the manic horniness that he’s experiencing channels nicely into playing some really good hockey, and if Mats happens to hang off Joel a little longer than normal after they connect for a great goal, who cares. Maybe their teammates will just think he’s amped up for the game tonight. Which he is. But also, he just wants to touch Joel. 

After lunch, back at the hotel, Mats is preparing for his pre-game nap and he has his phone in hand before he even realizes it. He has to force himself to put it down again, reminding himself that inviting Joel over for a nap isn’t a good idea. Because, first of all, there’s no way they would actually sleep, and second of all, Joel has a road roomie, and Jonas will certainly start to get suspicious if Joel is constantly disappearing, especially at naptime. But then, Joel has proven himself to be unexpectedly sneaky. . . 

Mats strips down to his boxers and sprawls diagonally across the bed. He’s not sleepy. His skin feels tight, buzzing with energy, and he’s been halfway hard most of the day, so he gives in and pushes his underwear down, sighing when he’s got a hand around himself. It only takes a few pulls before he’s breathing hard and spilling onto his belly. 

After cleaning up, he still can’t sleep, but he read somewhere that laying down with your eyes closed still has some benefit, and he manages to lie there, mind racing, until his alarm blares. At which point, he gets up and counts his non-nap as a success.

Later, they arrive back at the Staples Center and after a pre-game meal, Mats puts on his Under Armor, some basketball shorts and a Wild hoodie and wanders into the bowels of the arena to play two-touch with the guys like he usually does. He’s chatting and kicking the ball back and forth with Alex, Jordan, Kevin and Luke, perhaps laughing a little too much over the stupid jokes and chirps that are flying about, when Joel sidles up, slotting himself into the other side of the circle across from Mats, flanked by Jonas and Mikko. 

The first thing Mats does is kick the ball right to Joel because he is, admittedly, an idiot. Joel, being equally as idiotic, juggles it once and then kicks it right back to him.

“Hey!” Jordan exclaims, aggressively stripping the ball off Mats. “No playing favourites with your liney.”

_But he is my favourite_, Mats thinks, and his chest feels tight and warm, and he’s pretty sure he’s blushing, so he shoves at Jordan’s shoulder and says, “Don’t get pissy just because you’re crap at soccer.”

“Fuck you, I am not!”

Luke snorts. “Yes, you are, man. But we appreciate the effort.”

Things then devolve into a tussle between Jordan and Luke, which distracts everyone from the conversation about favoring linemates and allows Mats to go back to focusing on two-touch. They kick the ball around easily for ten minutes, before losing it behind a stack of equipment and a few of the guys go to fish it out. Mats takes advantage of the distraction to slip closer to Joel by pretending to help the guys look for the ball. See, he can be sneaky, too.

Eventually, the ball comes flying back into the circle and the game resumes. Now it’s just Jonas in between him and Joel and Mats is trying to work out a way to get around him when suddenly there’s a bit of a scramble, with Joel and Jonas both going for a short ball. Joel knocks into Jonas and spins him around, laughing and apologizing. And then Joel’s there, bumping into Mats as the ball is kicked away, and settling himself into the circle, with Jonas now on his other side, looking for all the world like it was a complete accident. It’s unbelievably smooth, especially for someone who was just stumbling around looking far too uncoordinated for a professional athlete. Mats is impressed, and slightly turned on. 

He manages to keep his hands to himself for all of five minutes before the ball is kicked over his head and both he and Joel turn to retrieve it. Mats checks him into the wall, kicking at his ankles to try and free the ball, like they’re digging a puck out along the boards. Mats has one hand on Joel’s hip and the other pinning his bicep to the wall, and Joel is giggling and gasping under his touch. 

“Get off me,” Joel whines, not sounding like he means it in the slightest.

“Give me the ball.”

“No.”

“Then I’m not letting go until you do.”

Joel traps the ball under one foot and pushes back against him. “I don’t think that is much of a threat. And anyway, I’m stronger than you.”

“You’re taller, there’s a difference,” Mats says, pinching Joel’s side and feeling victorious when Joel hunches over to protect himself from the attack. Joel is most definitely ticklish. 

Mats uses this knowledge to distract Joel from the fight over the ball, poking his fingers into Joel’s sides until he wriggles and writhes, and then Mats steals the ball off of him. He kicks it a few times to get it up in the air and boots it across the circle to Kevin. 

He’s about to turn back and grin smugly at Joel when there’s suddenly a large Swedish octopus attached to his back and Joel giggles directly into his ear, asking breathlessly, “Why do I like you at all?”

Mats glances around to see if anyone heard him when he realizes that they’ve been speaking some weird mixture of Swedish, Norwegian and English for the last few minutes. Thankfully, Jonas is focused on the game and no one else speaks Swedish or Norwegian, so they wouldn’t have understood Joel’s question anyway, let alone the subtext of it. Maybe. Probably. 

Instead of answering, because who knows what embarrassing nonsense would come out of his mouth, Mats scrambles to free himself from Joel’s headlock and they end up grappling with each other, Joel with the fingers of one hand twisted in Mats’ sweatshirt and Mats trying to hold on to Joel’s other wrist as he flails his arm around. 

“Are you two going to play or just wrestle?”

It’s Mikko. His voice is light, but when Mats looks over at him he can see a slight frown around his mouth as he stares at them. Mats quickly extricates himself from Joel’s arms and adjusts his hoodie, any sense of playfulness gone. Joel is shuffling himself back into position beside him.

“Sorry, Mickey,” Joel says, managing to look appropriately innocent and serious as he says it. Mats couldn’t pull that off if he tried, so he just mutters “sorry” and turns his attention back to the game. 

—

They lose to the Kings. Badly. 

The play solidly during the second period and pull back within one, but then the third period is a total fucking disaster, resulting in a hat trick for one of the Kings and a final score of 7-4. 

It’s a quiet journey back to the hotel and everyone disperses back to their own rooms to nurse their wounds or wounded pride. There’s no discussion of going out tonight; the rest of the road trip had gone so well and this is not how they wanted to end it. Thankfully, they are heading back to Minnesota in the morning and will be on home ice again soon. 

Mats changes out of his suit and flops onto his bed. He is considering ordering some room service when his phone buzzes from the nightstand. 

//I want to come see you, but Jonas is sad so I think I should stay with him.//

Mats can’t stop the ripple of disappointment that he feels at reading Joel’s text. It’s been two nights and he’s already become greedy, wanting to spend every spare minute they have together. And after a shitty game, cuddling with Joel sounds really good, but he doesn’t want to completely monopolize Joel’s time, especially if Jonas, who did have a rough night, is struggling with the loss. 

//Yeah, of course. Hang with Brodes tonight. We can meet up back in MN.//

//Like maybe a date?//

Mats grins at his phone. Joel has no fear.

//Yes, _søten_, I’ll take you out.//

Joel just sends back a blushing smiley emoji.

Mats turns on the television and chooses a marathon of Parks and Rec before ordering a chicken burger and a salad. There’s a knock on the door twenty minutes later, and Mats takes the tray from the member of the hotel staff and passes him a tip. He eats at the small table in the corner of the room, attention divided between his food and the TV. After finishing, he puts the tray out in the hallway, contemplates either finding some ice for his back or taking another hot shower to help relax his muscles. In the end, he doesn’t do either, instead opting to burrow under the covers and veg the fuck out.

He’s halfway through the next episode when there’s another knock at the door. His pulse jumps up at the sound—maybe Jonas had fallen asleep early and Joel had snuck out? It could just as well be any of the other guys, seeking out a phone charger or something else random that had been left behind or broken. He hopes it’s Joel though, for obvious reasons.

It’s not.

He pulls open the door to find Mikko standing there, tall and stoic.

_Dritt_. 

It’d been weeks since Mikko had first pulled him aside, but he should have realized this was coming after Mikko’s clear disapproval of him and Joel horsing around during two-touch today. They weren’t subtle, and if anyone on the team was going to pick up on it, then of course it would be their captain. 

“Can I come in?”

Mats nods and steps aside. “Sure, man. What’s up?” He cringes internally. It’s obvious that Mikko hasn’t come to shoot the shit, and he’s sure that Mikko knows he knows that, so now he just looks like an idiot for asking.

Mikko walks over to the table and sits down. “Let’s chat,” he says, rather ominously.

Taking the opposite chair, Mats says “okay” and waits for Mikko to say what he wants to say. He’s not going to dig his own grave by making assumptions about why he’s here or by prematurely apologizing, even though he’s done nothing to apologize for. He and Joel are both consenting adults.

Mikko levels him with a look. “I don’t like to get too involved in stuff between teammates. I’d rather let them work it out by themselves if they can, and I only step in if it seems like someone is going too far or if it’s going to mess with the dynamics of the team.”

“I don’t have an issue with any of the guys,” Mats says, deciding to feign ignorance because it sounds like Mikko is implying he going to harm Joel or fuck with the team, which is, frankly, pretty insulting.

“You know who I’m talking about, Mats. We’ve discussed this before.”

There’s a little ball of anger forming in Mats’ gut at the way Mikko is speaking to him. Sure, a good captain will always look out for his team, especially the young players. But if he’s learned anything about Joel over the last few days, it’s that Joel knows who he is, to the core and without a doubt. Joel is possibly more self-aware and confident than the rest of the guys on the team, himself included, and yet they insist on treating him like the baby brother. 

Mats draws a breath to steady himself and says, “Joel and I are fine. We get along and we’re playing good hockey. There’s no need for an intervention or whatever this is.”

“Listen, I know it’s easy for teammates to become close and normal boundaries of friendships become blurred in hockey, but there’s a level of appropriateness that’s expected on this team and—”

“Wait, what? Are you accusing me of being inappropriate towards Joel?” Mats demands because seriously, what the actual fuck. Is that what Mikko thinks of Mats, that he’s some lecherous creep? He’s never done anything with anyone without their full and enthusiastic consent and he doesn’t play games with people. For Mikko to question that really kind of hurts.

“No, I’m not accusing you. I’m just worried that the way you are with him might give him the wrong idea. The kid has a crush on you, Mats, and I don’t want him to be thinking this is something it’s not, when you’re always teasing him and touching him. He may think you’re flirting with him.”

_Well, that’s because I am_, Mats wants to say, but he doesn’t because he’s pretty sure that’s not the conversation Mikko needs to have. Mats understands that Mikko wants to look out for Joel. They are really close, so his protectiveness is undoubtedly more personal than a typical captain-player dynamic, but it doesn’t sound like Mikko is giving Joel enough credit or recognizing that he’s able to make his own choices without his captain weighing in. 

“Have you spoken to Joel about any of this?” Mats asks because he’s genuinely curious if they’re both getting it from him or if Mats is bearing the brunt of Mikko’s concern.

Mikko looks shifty at the question, so that answers that. 

“Okay,” Mats begins. He pauses to scratch at his jaw, weighing his words. “First of all, ‘the kid’ isn’t a kid, Mikko. Joel’s an adult, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like you referring to him in that way. Second of all, this seems more like a conversation you should be having with him. If you’re worried about him, talk to him. There’s honestly no ulterior motive or ill will behind my interactions with him. We’re good, I promise. But I really think you should talk to him.”

Mikko’s eyes narrow, like he’s trying to read between the lines of what Mats is and isn’t saying. 

If it’ll stop this type of interrogation, then Mats is fine with the idea of Mikko knowing about him and Joel, but Mats doesn’t feel like he’s in a position to tell him, not when Mikko’s acting all concerned, disapproving dad and being just a bit disrespectful towards both him and Joel. If Joel decides to tell him what’s going on and Mikko still wants to talk to Mats after that, then Mats is more than willing to do so, even though he thinks Mikko should just butt out of their personal lives.

“I will,” Mikko says, finally. “But think about cooling it a bit, okay?”

Mats barely suppresses a disdainful snort. The only time he’s going to cool it is when Joel decides he doesn’t want to climb into his bed anymore, until then, he’ll flirt with his boyfriend if he wants to. 

Immediately after that thought pops into his head, his brain stutters because, holy fuck, Mats has a boyfriend. At least he’s pretty sure that’s where this is headed, and maybe they need to finally really talk about this when they get home, but he can think about that once Mikko isn’t sitting in his room being all menacing and grumpy. 

“Right,” Mats says, ambivalently, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Mikko’s request. “We done here?”

Mikko nods sharply. “Yes. I’ll see you at breakfast.” And he stands from table and strides swiftly to the door, letting himself out. 

Mats releases a forceful breath and scrubs his hands through his hair, pulling slightly at the roots in frustration. Teammates are meddlesome at the best of times, but this was overkill. The way Mikko had raised his concerns spoke volumes about how he views both Joel and Mats and he felt angry on both of their behalfs. They are perfectly capable of managing their own shit, and yet Mikko had felt the need to pressure Mats into backing off under the guise of protecting Joel. It is complete bullshit.

And now Mikko is on his way to talk to Joel about it. 

Mats should probably warn Joel of the impending ambush, so he grabs his phone from the nightstand.

//Mikko paid me a visit. He thinks I’m leading you on…//

//So just to be clear, I’m not, and I’m looking forward to going on an actual date with you.//

//That being said, I’m pretty sure he’s on his way to talk to you now. I didn’t say anything about us, but I’m okay with it if you do. You don’t need to hide this.//

//Let me know how it goes. And sorry!//

—

Mats messages are left on read with no reply, which leads him to assume that Mikko is there with Joel, and the idea makes him anxious. 

To occupy himself, he abandons his phone on the nightstand and focuses on the mundane tasks of getting ready for bed, going through his usual routine. Unfortunately, this only takes ten minutes and then he’s left trying to figure out something else to do, wondering the whole time what’s happening between Joel and Mikko. 

Eventually he climbs into bed and even though he’s feeling both physically and mentally drained, there’s no way that he’s actually going to fall asleep soon. He increases the volume of the TV and half-watches another episode of Parks and Rec, glancing at his phone every couple of minutes. 

It doesn’t buzz.

He’s started to zone out when there’s a knock at his door for the third time that night. Maybe Mikko’s come to yell at him again. 

Reluctantly, he pulls back the covers and shuffles over the door, this time looking through the peephole in order to give himself a minute to prepare for whoever’s on the other side. 

It’s not Mikko, thank God.

It’s Joel.

Mats whips open the door and stares at him for a second. Joel is in a rumpled t-shirt and pajama pants and he’s carrying his suit and his backpack and travel duffel. 

“Um, are you moving in?” Mats asks by way of a greeting.

Joel shrugs a shoulder with a sly smile. “Jonas kicked me out.”

“What?” Mats asks in alarm, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him into the room. He takes Joel’s suit from him and hangs it next to his own in the closet, and then pushes him over to the bed, casting an anxious glance over Joel’s face. “What happened?”

“Calm down, _sötnos_, it’s nothing bad.”

Mats exhales. “Did Mikko find you?”

Joel rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yes, thank you for the warning. I got your messages right before he knocked on our door. Mikko was definitely annoyed with you.” 

“Well, I was annoyed with him, too,” Mats says with a huff. “What’d he say?”

Mats watches in fascination as Joel rolls his eyes with a sigh and then bites at his bottom lip. 

“You know I stayed with Mikko and his family when I first got here? Well, he’s known about me forever, that I like boys, I mean, and he doesn’t care but he always worries about me,” Joel shakes his head, clearly fond but also irritated. “Which was nice because my family is so far away and Mikko is like my hockey family, and Jonas like my older brother. They look out for me. But sometimes it seems he thinks I have no brains in my head, especially about dating. Like I don’t know that I need to be careful or that some guys are assholes. I think Mikko would be happier if I not date anyone until I was thirty or something.” 

“Well, he’s taking his job as your second dad really seriously.”

Joel snorts. “Tonight he warned me that sometimes it might seem like a guy is interested, when he’s really just being friendly or something. And he said he doesn’t want me to, uh, get my hopes up and then be disappointed. He was very uncomfortable, especially because Jonas was there listening, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. Mikko didn’t say anything about you—I think he wanted it to just seem like life advice or whatever and not seem too nosy—but I was angry that he talked to you, so I asked him, ‘What are you talking about?’ And he asked if I wanted to talk ‘privately’.” Here, Joel pauses to make air quotes and lets out an annoyed huff of laughter.

“I say I didn’t care if Jonas hears, so then Mikko said that he knows I have a crush on you—Jonas squawked when he heard your name. I haven’t told him but I don’t think he was very surprised anyway—and then Mikko told me he talked to you so that you wouldn’t give me the ‘wrong idea’.” The air quotes come out again. “So then he asked if I’m okay, like I would be sad that you just flirt with me for fun.”

Mats processes all of this, trying not to laugh. “What’d you say?”

“Well, because you told me I could tell him about us, I asked him, ‘What does it mean if a guy kisses you?’ I wanted to say something like ‘sticks his hand down your pants’ but I know I couldn’t say it without laughing. Anyway, then Mikko got really serious and asked if you’d kissed me. So I told him that the first time, I kissed you, but since then, yes, you have kissed me lots.” Joel looks so smug and pleased with himself.

“Oh, God, you enjoyed this, didn’t you?”

Joel shrugs, unrepentant. “Mikko deserves it. Anyway, Jonas was laughing and Mikko turned bright red, so I started laughing, which probably made it worse, so I explain to him that I know what I am doing and that everything was good and you are treating me right. I asked if he wanted details and he got even redder and decided he needed to leave.” 

It’s too much. Mats can picture that scene so clearly in his head and he cracks up at the thought of Mikko fidgeting uncomfortably as Joel offers to tell him about their sex life. He flops back on the bed and covers his face with his hands, shoulders shaking as he laughs and laughs. He can hear Joel giggling from where he’s sitting on the end of the bed and then he flops down, too, mostly on Mats’ chest.

“Oof,” Mats gasps, flinches away from where Joel’s elbow digs into his ribs and curls his arms around Joel reflexively to pull him closer. 

Joel nudges his head against Mats’ cheek and then presses a kiss to the hinge of Mats’ jaw. Mats lets him nuzzle at his face for a few seconds and then asks, “Wait, why did Jonas kick you out?”

Drawing back, Joel says, “Oh, he was like ‘go get your man’ and then he passed me my bag and told me to pack. His way of being supportive, I think.”

That sets Mats off again, and he’s well and truly giggling now. “This whole thing is ridiculous. And now I’ll probably have to look forward to the shovel talk from Mikko or Jonas or both of them. Mikko will probably corner me at breakfast.”

“I will protect you.”

“Shut up,” Mats huffs, poking him in the ribs. Joel writhes and giggles into Mats’ neck before relaxing against him, heavy and warm.

After a minute of silence, Joel mumbles, “So I can stay?”

Mats snorts, unbearably fond of this silly man. “Yes, _søten_, you can stay.” 

Joel snuggles in, and Mats can feel himself relaxing towards sleep, but his legs are still hanging off the end of the bed. “Move. I’m exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

Joel grumbles a little, but they manage to drag themselves up the bed and under the covers. Mats reaches over to turn out the bedside light and then lies down, Joel snuggling up behind him, knees slotted together and a large, warm hand resting against Mats’ chest, nose nudging the back of his neck. 

Mats revels in the feeling, once again surprised by the fact that he doesn’t hate that he’s so much smaller than Joel, wanting to stay tucked away in the curve of his body.

He thinks Joel’s fallen asleep when Mats feels him mumble against the back of his neck, “_God natt_.”

“_Sov godt_,” Mats whispers, smiling into the darkness.

—

“Mats, time to get up.”

Mats ignores the intrusion into his hazy contentment and burrows deeper under the blanket, pressing himself closer to the warm body next to him. A hand brushes long strands of hair off his face. It feels nice. 

“_Liten kattunge_, not that you aren’t very cute like this, but our flight is in two hours. We need to shower and get breakfast.”

Mats scrunches up his face. “Shower?” he grumbles, confused and petulant. Joel is far too alert and responsible for ass o’clock in the morning. “We showered at the arena.”

Joels’ fingers are wandering along his spine, causing Mats to shiver. “Yes,” he says, “but you are very hot when you sleep and now we are very sweaty.”

Mats sighs. “We’re hockey players, we’re always sweaty.”

Joel just laughs at him and gets out of bed. “I’m taking a shower. You can come with me or sleep more and smell like sweat on the plane.”

The water turns on in the bathroom. 

Mats really is comfortable, but he was pretty much guaranteed shower sex just now and he’d be a fool to turn that down. Even so, he’s still slow at getting up and shuffling to the bathroom, attempting to tame his bed head as he goes. When he finally reaches it, he’s greeted by the vision of a naked Joel, miles of his smooth, tan skin tempting even through the blurry glass of the shower door. He slides under the steamy spray of water, feeling instantly more awake when Joel’s hand brushes over his stomach.

Despite trading handjobs in the shower and packing up their stuff (at Joel’s insistence; Mats throws his things in his bag and watches with fascinated horror as Joel folds his clothes and neatly packs them away), he and Joel still make it down to breakfast long before Mats usually stumbles in. Only half the team is there, but his unusual presence is noted by Marcus, and some of the other guys look over at him, too. “Ho ho, look at the early bird! What are you doing down here, bud?” 

“Trying something new,” Mats says with a shrug, but he smiles when Marcus reaches out a fist and Mats bumps his knuckles.. 

Mikko and Jonas are at a table with Victor, and Joel says hello as they approach. Mats follows behind him and nods at the guys. Jonas gives him a knowing smirk. Mikko looks vaguely in their direction but has the appearance of a man trying very hard to pretend he doesn’t know what he knows. Mats puts a hand on Joel’s lower back as they walk away to go get some food. The gesture may be too possessive for seven-thirty in the morning, but Mats is still feeling uncharitable towards Mikko and decides that a bit of pettiness is fine. If the positioning of his hand reads as ‘yes, this man is mine and I am intimately familiar with his body’ to Mikko, then he’s happy to send that message. 

They reach the area where the continental breakfast is laid out and Joel loads up a plate with a healthy, well-balanced meal, including oatmeal. Mats reaches for some toast and begrudgingly takes a banana, too. 

When they sit down at an empty table, Joel presses his elbow into Mats’ and Mats does the same with their ankles. It’s so silly, but Mats grins helplessly into his coffee anyway.

—

Mats and Joel sit in their usual seats at opposite ends of the plane on the way back to Minnesota. Mats puts in his headphones and closes his eyes to ward off any attempts at conversation by his teammates. He isn’t particularly tired, but after everything that has happened on this road trip, he needs some space to just sort through his thoughts. 

There hadn’t been time last night or this morning for Mats and Joel to really talk about what they were doing. Their relationship, however they decide to frame it, is more serious than a friends-with-benefits type of thing, especially now that Mikko and Jonas both know about them. Not that Mats can imagine just having something casual with Joel; Joel is far too. . . precious for that, and maybe that’s Mats’ own brand of protectiveness creeping in, but it’s true. Joel deserves someone who would cherish him, not because he is fragile but because he is so genuine and open and strong. The idea that Mats could be that person, that he wants to be that person, is a little intimidating, scary and thrilling in a way that he’d never experienced before. It grips him like an anchor after spending the last year so adrift. 

This isn’t what he’d anticipated with the move to Minnesota. _Faen i helvete_, even a week ago he wouldn’t have predicted something like this happening to him. Regardless of how attracted he was to Joel, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged it if Joel hadn’t kissed him. Mats was too committed to tamping down the thoughts and feelings he had about men, teammates in particular. Joel isn’t the first to catch his attention—Mats can admit that he’s always been a little bit in love with Henke, and there have been others, too—but he is the first man for whom Mats has allowed himself to even consider the possibility of having something more. And that feels fucking huge right now, especially at 30,000 feet surrounded by all of their teammates. 

But Mats wants it. He feels practically giddy with excitement over the fact that he will get to take Joel out to dinner, be able to kiss him, call him his boyfriend, even if only in his head or when they’re in private. He can see it all clearly in his mind, how this line of his life has intersected with Joel’s through hockey, but how they might become more entangled and interwoven in the future, building something else together away from the rink. 

These are probably intense thoughts to be having three days after kissing someone for the first time, but Mats can’t bring himself to care. He’s feeling reckless in a way that he usually isn’t, desperate to do something immediately. Like just take Joel home with him when they land. 

But thankfully the rational part of his brain kicks in and he’s able to push that temptation aside. He’s exhausted; a three-game road trip and the long return flight have taken it out of him. Plus, he’s got shit to do at home, like an actual functional adult instead of the horny teenager he’s been channelling over the last few days. Despite the urge to see Joel as soon as possible, Mats also wants to do this properly, spend some time planning an actual date instead of just tumbling into bed together at the end of the day. 

They finally land back in Minnesota in the late afternoon. As they wait for the shuttle to bring them to the parking garage at the Humphrey Terminal, Mats sidles over to where Joel and Jonas are standing. Jonas glances at Mats and then over to Joel, saying quickly, “I’ll be right back,” before walking over to where Ryan and Jared are standing, leaving them alone. 

Mats nudges his elbow against Joel’s arm as they stand side by side. Joel tips his head down and whispers “hi,” his breath ghosting over Mats’ ear. He only just stops himself from shivering at the feel of it.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Mats asks, trying to pitch it like an ordinary question he’d ask any teammate after a long road trip, but he knows Joel will understand what he’s really asking.

“I don’t know. Nothing planned,” Joel replies. The ‘yet’ hanging in the air, unspoken.

“It’ll be nice to have a day off.”

“Yes,” Joel agrees, shifting his backpack over his shoulder. “What will you do?”

Mats shrugs. “Still figuring that out.”

Joel lets out a breathy laugh and turns to smile at Mats. “You should let me know when you do.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll text you.”

“Yes, good.”

They smile dumbly at each other for a second and then the shuttle arrives and the guys start moving towards the door. Mats and Joel follow along, shoulders bumping as they walk. As they reach the steps, Mats puts a hand at the small of Joel’s back, guiding him onto the bus in an echo of his gesture at breakfast. After sitting down, Mats turns toward the window, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. 

—

Mats debates for forty-five minutes that night over whether or not he should send a goodnight text, thinking it might be too sappy or too clingy. But in the end he remembers this is Joel, who never seems to hesitate in saying what he thinks, so he fires one off before he can overthink it further.

//_God natt, søten_. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.//

Joel replies almost immediately. //can’t wait! :)//

—

His phone rings the next morning as Mats is making breakfast. Glancing at the screen, he sees that it’s Fabian and he quickly wipes off his hands to answer it, wondering why his brother is calling him when he usually prefers to communicate in emojis and memes. 

“_Hallo, vatnisse_. Why are you calling me so early?” 

“_God morgen og faen ta deg_, Mats.”

Mats snorts. “But really, why are you calling? Are you okay?”

“You’re such a worrier,” Fabian says, and Mats can picture him shaking his head in exasperation. He sounds happy though, so Mats lets go of the flare of true concern that his call had sparked. 

“Sorry, sorry. Old habits and all that. How are you? How’s mamma?”

“We’re good, yeah. She misses you, of course, but I didn’t call to talk about how you’re mamma’s favorite son—”

Mats huffs. “_Hold kjeft_.”

Fabian just laughs. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you about my game last night.” 

And with that launches into a story about his two goals in Lørenskog’s win. Mats loves listening to Fabian be so excited about his new club and he’s proud of how well he’s playing lately. Mats still harbors a small hope that they might play together for Norway one day, but he fears that he’s going to be too old for that to happen by the time Fabian makes it onto the senior national team. 

“Sorry about L.A., bro,” Fabian says after wrapping up his retelling of his game. “Are you back in Minnesota?”

Mats yawns and pours himself some more coffee. “Yeah, we got back yesterday. The Kings game was fucking awful, but it was a good road trip otherwise.”

“I saw that you put up a few points. Your line is killing it, dude.”

At the mention of his line, Mats’ brain stutters to a halt. “Yeah. . .um.”

“What?”

He’s always been shit at keeping things from Fabian. Mats knows there is no way he can’t just talk about the goals they scored and the games they won in California because that’s not what he’s going to remember about this road trip. 

“So I met someone.”

“In Cali?”

“Kind of?”

“‘Kind of,’ what does that mean, Mats?”

Mats scrubs a hand over his face. “He was in California, but I didn’t meet him there.” 

Mats knows he’s being unnecessarily cryptic here, especially because it’ll all come out anyway, but he wants to let that particular revelation hang between them for a moment. 

Fabian, to his credit, isn’t remotely fazed that Mats is suddenly dating a guy. “Okay, so he came to watch you play? That’s cool.”

Mats lets his head fall forward with a thunk against the countertop. He’ll need to just say it. “No, Fabi, he was also playing.”

At this, Fabian perks up. “A teammate? Which one?” 

Taking a deep breath to shore up his courage, Mats admits, “Joel.” 

“Ekky? Isn’t he, like, my age?” Fabian had met the team when he was visiting over Christmas.

Mats groans. “He’s a bit older than you. Whatever. Shut up.”

Fabian just laughs. “I’m not judging you, dude. He’s cute!”

“I know he’s cute,” Mats huffs, feeling strangely petulant by the turn this conversation has taken. 

“So. . . what’s the deal?”

That’s a good question. 

“It’s still really new,” Mats says and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “We just hooked up on this roadie, but I’m supposed to take him out, like, on a date tonight. I just have to figure out what we should do because it needs to be, you know, not super obvious that it’s a date.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Fabian is quiet for a minute and then says, “Wine and dine him at your place then. Make mamma’s gnocchi!”

After sneaking around hotels for three days, it would be nice to be somewhere private, where they don’t have to rush and aren’t worried about being caught by teammates. At the same time, dinner at his apartment doesn’t exactly seem very memorable as first dates go. Mats wants to make it special. But it’s sunny today, so maybe they could do something outside, too. That way they aren’t under so much public scrutiny and would be less likely to be stopped for selfies and autographs.

“Okay, yeah. We could go do something this afternoon and then I’ll make him dinner. Tell mamma to text me her recipe.”

“Why am I being put to work?”

“Because you live in the same house as her and you're my little brother so you’re honor-bound to help me in my hour of need.”

“Who knew dating a dude would make you so dramatic,” Fabian says drily. 

“Hey!” Mats exclaims. Fabian isn’t wrong, he supposes, he’s being a bit needy, but whatever this is a big deal for a lot of reasons. “I’m just nervous. Leave me alone.”

Fabian just laughs at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll help. Good luck on your date! Love you!”

“Love you, too, Fabian. _Ha det_.”

After hanging up, Mats starts Googling things to do outdoors around the Twin Cities. The top results are mainly lake activities and obviously not appropriate for early March in Minnesota, but eventually he finds a few possibilities. In the middle of his search, he receives the recipe for his mom’s gnocchi, sent with a single heart emoji. 

With a plan in mind, Mats texts Joel: //_God morgen_. I’ll pick you up at 2—dress warm!//

//_okej. vi ses_! :)//

The rest of Mats' morning is spent making a shopping list, showering and tidying his apartment, finally tackling the last of the boxes stacked against the wall of the living room, before setting off to the grocery store to collect what he needs for dinner.

—

That afternoon, the sun is still bright overhead, but it’s also damn cold outside, so Mats is second-guessing his choice of date activity as he drives over to Joel’s place to pick him up. If it’s unbearable, then they don’t have to stay long. But then Joel’s from Sweden so it’s not like he isn't used to winter weather. 

Mats pulls up in front of Joel’s building and texts him that he’s there.

Joel replies //coming down!// and then two minutes later he’s pushing open the door, bundled up in a navy down jacket and a gray wool hat. Mats heart rate kicks up a notch at the sight of him, even though it’s been less than twenty-four hours since they last saw each other.

A rush of cold air accompanies Joel into the car. “Hi,” he says, with a grin, settling into the passenger seat.

Mats just looks at him for a moment, anxious about how to greet him now. He finally says “hey” and immediately knows that he’s blushing, which is just embarrassing. 

Joel just giggles at him and leans over the center console and kisses the corner of Mats’ mouth before pulling back and asking, “So what are we doing?”

Mats glances around them quickly to make sure no one is watching, but the sidewalk is empty and he remembers that his tinted windows would give them privacy anyway. Pulling himself together, Mats shifts the car into drive and eases away from the curb. “I thought we could go for a walk. Have you been to Minnehaha Falls?”

Joel looks excited. “Yes, I went with Jonas at Christmas. It’s nice!”

Mats is disappointed. He’d hoped to take Joel somewhere he hadn’t been, but it isn’t terribly surprising that Joel has seen the falls before. After all, he’s been in Minnesota a couple years longer than Mats. “Oh, well, we could go somewhere else then.”

But Joel shakes his head and asks, “Have you been there?” 

“No, it’s not one of the things I've ticked off my touristy list yet.”

“Then we should go. In the winter, it’s frozen. It’s pretty cool.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

If Joel doesn’t mind going again, then Mats would like to see it. “All right.” 

Mats follows the directions on his GPS and navigates them over the Mississippi River to the Minnehaha Regional Park. 

At mid-afternoon on a wintry Tuesday, the parking lot is empty but for three other cars. Mats glances around. “Do we have to pay for parking?”

“I think so? I don’t remember. Jonas drove us last time. I wasn’t paying attention.”

With a shrug, Mats pulls into a spot. “Whatever. There’s no one here. Surely they won’t care.” He puts the car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt, putting on his hat and sunglasses before getting out of the car. The cold air hits his bare hands like a wave of icy needles so he shoves them into his pockets as he walks around to meet Joel on the sidewalk. 

Since Joel’s been here before, Mats says with a grin, “Well, lead the way.” 

Joel checks him gently in the shoulder but looks around to get his bearings. “Okay, I think it’s this way.” And he sets off down a path that leads them around a closed building housing a cafe and public restrooms and down towards the river. “Do you want to go on top first or the bottom? There’s a good place for pictures down below.”

Mats doesn’t really mind either way. All he knows about Minnehaha Falls is what he read online. “Yeah, sounds good. Let’s do that.”

It takes ten minutes to reach the path alongside the water at the bottom of the falls, including a treacherous descent down some slippery stairs, and they only pass two other people on the way, slipping by unrecognized. It’s icy in places so they pick their way along until they come to a small bridge that crosses the creek. 

“Oh, wow,” Mats says when he can see the full view. The waterfall isn’t very big, at least not in comparison to the ones he’s used to seeing in the mountains in Norway, but for a fairly flat place like Minnesota, Mats understands why it’s notable. 

The water is mostly frozen, as Joel had said, but with some water still falling from the main drop. On either side of the big waterfall, ice falls like curtains along the curved ridge twenty meters above them. There’s a dirty, trampled path in the snow leading up to the icy falls, where visitors have walked to get a closer look.

“See? It’s cool.”

“Yeah, it is,” Mats agrees. “Should we go up? Do you think you can get behind it? I always like doing that back home.”

“Okay. Just don’t fall in—Coach wouldn’t be happy,” Joel says, pointing at a threatening sign on the bridge saying ‘do not enter’, but it has clearly been ignored by lots of people. 

Mats laughs. “I’ll try my best not to,” he says and gestures for Joel to go first over the railing. 

They set off up the path, along the left bank of the creek. Up ahead there’s a gap in the curtain of ice that looks big enough for them to fit through. When they reach it, Joel peers around the wall of ice. “Are we going in?”

“Of course,” Mats replies, that reckless feeling overtaking him again.

Joel grins back at Mats like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard and steps up to go through the frozen waterfall. His foot slips to the right and he wobbles dangerously, throwing his arms out to brace himself on the ice. Mats reaches out instinctively to grab his hips, attempting to steady him. 

“Oops,” Joel says sheepishly. 

“Remember, _don’t_ fall, _søten_!” Mats is still holding onto Joel’s hips and he squeezes lightly when Joel’s got his feet under him again. 

Mats carefully follows him through the ice, determined not to slip himself, and takes his sunglasses off when he gets inside, letting out a little gasp at the sight of the falls from behind. It’s beautiful; the sunlight is shining through the ice, giving the little, dark cavern a blue ethereal hue. They walk along the shelf that’s been carved out of the rock to the middle of the falls, sticking close to the rock wall. The sheet of ice has a rounded wavy pattern and it’s thicker in some places than others so the colour of the ice shifts from near white to dark blue. 

“Wow,” Joel says in a hushed voice. 

Mats understands the urge to be quiet. It feels like a space where you should be reverential. 

“Did you come back here last time?” Mats asks, reaching out a hand to run his fingertips along the ice. It’s cold, obviously, but also really smooth. 

“No, we just walk a bit along the path. This is cool!”

Joel looks excited, his eyes bright as he takes in the view of the waterfall, and Mats is absurdly pleased to have shown him something new. “It is,” he agrees, and suddenly Mats wants him closer. “Hey, come here.”

“What?” Joel asks, picking his way over to where Mats is standing. 

Instead of answering, Mats winds his arms around Joel’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss. Joel's lips are chilly against his, but they warm quickly as Mats pulls him closer and deepens the kiss. Mats loses himself in it for a minute and then remembers that while they’re currently hidden from view, they still are in a public place. Reluctantly, he pulls back, but not before giving Joel one final, quick peck. 

“Should we walk a bit more?” he asks, lowering his arms back to his sides. 

“Yes, okay. I want to take some pictures first though.”

Joel fishes out his phone and begins taking photos of the ice from various angles. Mats gets his own out and snaps a few, including one of Joel in profile, looking thoughtfully out at the ice. After a few minutes, his fingers feel numb so he pockets his phone and rubs his hands together to warm them up, waiting for Joel to finish. 

They leave the shrouded silence of the ice cave and reemerge into the winter sunlight. The path is more treacherous on the way down and after a quick glance around to see there are any other people around, Mats reaches out to grab onto Joel. His forearm, not his hand, so it could be written off as totally platonic if someone were to observe them. They wobble and laugh the entire way down. 

When they reach the bridge again, Joel takes a few more photos and then pulls Mats in for a selfie with the falls in the background. Joel lowers the phone and taps on the screen to view the photo. The sun is shining from behind them, so the photo is poorly lit, but they’re still clearly visible, grinning stupidly as they press close together. Joel is looking directly at the camera, but Mats is not. He always looks at the wrong part of the phone for selfies so he appears distracted in every single one. This one is no exception, but he looks happy. It’s a good picture of them. 

“Send it to me?”

“Yes, okay.” Joel taps on his screen a few more times and then Mats feels his own phone buzz in his pocket.

They wander for a while, but then Mats feels like his hands are slowly becoming blocks of ice so he suggests getting something warm to drink and they retrace their steps back to the parking lot. Mats unlocks the doors and is looking forward to blasting the heat, when Joel says, “Uh, Mats? I think you got a ticket.”

Mats looks and sure enough there’s an envelope under his windshield wiper. “_Faen_! Guess we shouldn’t have risked it, huh?”

“It’s a good thing you’ve got the NHL paycheck to pay off all your parking violations,” Joel says, deadpan, and then ruins it by giggling. 

“Hey, this was my first ticket,” Mats exclaims, feigning offense. Then adds, “In Minnesota. New York was another story.”

Joel just giggles some more and climbs into the car. 

Mats tugs the stupid ticket free and settles next to Joel, shoving the ticket into the center console to deal with later. Mats makes the short drive to Nokomis Beach Coffee and buys them hot chocolates, which they drink in the car, fingers finally thawing where they’re wrapped around the cups and cheeks and noses losing their redness. 

“This was fun,” Joel says, licking a smear of hot chocolate from his top lip. 

It’s highly distracting. Joel’s mouth is distracting all the time. He looks so cherubic and then he’s got those lips. The combination is a lot to handle. Mats wants to know what they’d look like wrapped around his dick. 

“It was,” Mats agrees absentmindedly, struggling to pull his mind out of the proverbial gutter. 

Then he wonders if Joel thinks this is the end of the date, and quickly adds, “So I’d considered making a reservation for dinner, but I didn’t really want to worry about people recognising us, and I didn’t want to pretend to just be your teammate. Instead, I, uh, thought I could make us dinner at my place. If you want?”

Joel’s eyes light up. “Yes, I’m hungry.”

Mats snorts out a laugh and starts the car. “Okay, then. That was an easy sell.” 

—

“What can I do to help?”

Joel is perched on one of the stools at the island counter, watching as Mats bustles about the kitchen pulling out various ingredients and dishes and utensils. 

“Um, nothing really right now. I’m just boiling the potatoes, but when they’re done you can help make the gnocchi.”

Joel looks at him strangely. “You’re, like, actually cooking?”

“Yes?” Mats had said that he would make Joel dinner, so he doesn’t understand his confusion.

“It’s good. I just thought, you know, boil some pasta or rice. This is,” Joel pauses and gestures to encompass the entirety of the kitchen, “more than that.”

Mats gives him an exasperated look. “Joel, I’m not going to make you some standard pre-game meal on our first date. That would be lame. I’m making you gnocchi—my mamma’s recipe. She sent it over this morning.”

Joel goes pink. “Well, I didn’t know! I’ve never been on a date like this before.”

In that moment, Mats is so unbearably fond of Joel that his chest feels tight. 

Mats remembers his first experiences with boys; they were fumbling, seemingly illicit, and rushed, usually at parties or in parents' houses. He imagines that Joel's limited experience was similar, so the fact that this is his first real date feels like a big responsibility all of the sudden. Mats wants to make sure it's good for him. 

"How is it so far, our date?" he asks, obviously fishing. 

Joel pauses before answering, like he's considering the question seriously. "Well, you picked me up. This is a big thing on a date, no? So you get a point for that. But no flowers so. . ." At this, Joel tips his head from side to side in judgement. "But you take me to the waterfall and we get to explore the cave so that was good, and I got good pictures. Except then you got a ticket. And now you're making dinner—your _mamma's_ recipe. Bonus points for that, I think."

He says all of this with a flat, philosophic tone, and if it wasn’t for the twinkle of humor in his eyes, Mats might think he was actually scoring their date. Still, the tension in his shoulders releases knowing that Joel is enjoying himself, that Mats hasn’t fucked this up. He lets himself laugh and shoots Joel a smile, which Joel returns. 

Feeling more relaxed, Mats asks, “Would you like something to drink? Wine? Beer? Water?”

“Wine is good. Maybe some water, too?” 

As professional hockey players, hydration is a constant fixation, so Mats fills two pint glasses with cold water from the refrigerator. Joel downs half of his glass in one big drink. Mats takes a few sips of his own and then goes to fetch the bottle of chianti that he bought earlier in the day. 

After locating the corkscrew in the messy tangle of utensils, he opens the bottle to let it breathe while he checks on the potatoes. 

Admittedly, Mats doesn’t do a lot of cooking for himself. He’s got a meal service that brings his dinners a few times a week, and that on top of team meals or food grabbed at the arena doesn’t leave a lot of reasons to cook at home. 

There’s a pressure in preparing a meal for someone else, but also, strangely, a comfort to it. The kitchen was always the most important room in their house growing up, and he can’t say the same thing about his own kitchen at the moment. He misses the feelings of warmth and togetherness that come from a communal meal. 

When the potatoes are soft, Mats turns off the stove, drains the pot and waves Joel over. “Help me peel. Like this.” 

Joel takes up the position next to Mats at the counter and watches as Mats stabs a potato with a fork and uses a knife to work the peel off like his mother does. When the potato is free of all of its skin, he drops it into a bowl and reaches back into the pot to spear another, passing the fork with a steaming potato and the knife to Joel and retrieving another set for himself. 

Together, they make quick work of peeling the potatoes and Mats sets Joel the task of using the potato ricer, while he measures out the flour and grabs an egg. 

“I’ve never seen one of these before,” Joel says, looking interestedly at the ricer in between potatoes. “It’s cool”.

“It was a staple in our house when I was a kid and mamma bought me one when I got my first place on my own.” Mats puts some salted water to boil in preparation for the gnocchi. “But I’ve never actually used it myself before. The only time it gets any use is when she’s visiting.”

“Tonight is very special then,” Joel says quietly, going back to his task.

“Yeah, it is,” Mats says, giving him a soft smile.

They finish in silence, the only sound in the kitchen being the acoustic Spotify playlist Mats had put on earlier. He gets the dough mixed up and cut into pieces—they’re not as neat and uniform as his mother’s but they should still taste good despite not being as aesthetically pleasing—and shows Joel how to press them with a fork and flour them. 

While the gnocchi are setting, Mats pulls out chicken, pesto and the tub of fresh tomato sauce that he bought at Whole Foods. If his mother knew, she would tsk at Mats for not making his own sauce to go with the gnocchi, but he didn’t have time. At least it’s not the kind in a jar. 

Twenty minutes later, the food is ready. Mats serves them while Joel pours the wine. He’d considered using the dining table that’s through in the living room, but it feels oddly formal for the two of them. Instead, they settle at the kitchen counter, side by side. 

“This smells amazing, Mats. Thank you for cooking.”

Mats shrugs, ready to brush off the compliment, but chooses honesty instead. For all of Mats’ experience of dating women, it is completely new for him to be pursuing this with Joel. It’s a big deal, but it also feels completely natural. “You’re welcome. I wanted to do it for you. Here—” Mats reaches for his wine glass and raises it towards Joel. “_Skål_.”

“_Skål_.” Joel tips his glass so it clinks off Mats’ and then they drink, eyes meeting over the rims of the wine glasses. Joel shifts in his seat so that his leg is pressed against Mats’ under the counter. “Next time, I’ll try cooking for you. But I don’t think it’ll be as good as this.”

Mats laughs at that. “I promise this is the only marginally impressive thing I’ll ever make for you. The rest will just be a lot of steamed vegetables and protein. Or we can just order something.”

“It was one good thing about living with Mikko during my rookie season. He’s a very good cook, so is Helena, so I ate very well. Harder when I moved into my own apartment. I ate a lot of oatmeal and pasta and smoked fish. Easy things. I’m better now.”

Mats remembers the pathetic meals he ate living with some other rookies when he was bouncing between the AHL and the NHL during his first couple years in the states. It hadn’t been much better in Sweden, when they had put him up with one of the older players on the team. It sounds like he and Joel had very different experiences living with veteran players. 

Swallowing his bite of chicken, he says, “When I was with Modo, I lived with this guy Nilsson. He was great, really funny and welcoming, made it a lot easier for me to feel comfortable with the team. But he was terrible at looking after himself, couldn’t cook and I don’t think he owned a vacuum. I didn’t learn much from him. Mikko sounds like he was a much better mentor for you in terms of general life skills.”

Joel nods and says, in between bites, “Yes, Mikko helped a lot, but at least I know how to keep tidy and do my own laundry before I got here. I think Greener still can’t do these things!”

Mats laughs and pops another gnocchi in his mouth. Jordan, for all his charms, is an all-around disaster and definitely sets a low bar for the other young guys on the team. Joel is miles ahead of him in terms of maturity and responsibility. “No, you’re probably right. Greener is like the character from that Peanuts cartoon, the one who’s always dirty.”

“I don’t remember this one.”

“Have you never seen it? You know, Charlie Brown!” Mats says, dismayed. “Anyway, I hadn’t seen it since I was a kid, but during my first year with the Rangers, the guys made me watch the Christmas movie and there’s a boy in it who’s just surrounded by a cloud of dirt. That’s Greener.”

Joel giggles. “I’ll have to watch it.”

“I was informed that ‘it’s a classic, dude’,” Mats says, pulling out Joel’s use of air quotes, which makes Joel laugh harder. Mats smiles and then asks, “So have you talked to him again? Mikko, I mean.”

“No. Like I say before, it’s not his business. I don’t want him involved, you know? This is between you and me,” Joel says, chin raised in determination. “I like you, and Mikko doesn’t get a say in that.”

Mats clears his throat, but his voice is still rough when he says, “I like you, too, Joel.”

Joel smiles, pleased, and takes a sip of his wine.

After they finish eating, Mats is perfectly happy to leave the dirty dishes on the counter for later, but Joel insists on doing them, stationing himself by the sink. “This way we can do better things later,” he says with a smirk, and Mats goes hot all over. He leaves Joel to the dishes, grabbing their glasses and the bottle of wine, and heads through to the living room just to give himself a minute. After throwing back the last of his wine, he pours another glass and sits on the sofa, turning on the TV for some background noise. 

Five minutes later, Joel wanders through and settles against Mats’ side, hand splayed on Mat’s thigh. They start the first episode of the show _Tiger King_ that all the guys have been talking about. With every minute that passes, Mats gets more and more perplexed and horrified by the cast of characters on the screen. He and Joel both keep saying variations of "what the hell" every few minutes. 

They make it halfway through the episode. 

“How much longer are we going to pretend to watch this?” Joel asks, his fingers trailing higher along Mats’ inseam. 

“What, are you not interested in crazy people in Florida and their captive tigers?” Mats teases. “I think it’s fascinating, but we can turn it off if there’s something you’d rather—mmph!” He doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Joel lunges forward and attacks his mouth. 

From there, Mats kind of loses track of things. Between biting kisses, Joel’s hand creeping up his thigh, and the urge to get Joel undressed, Mats entire being feels like it’s being pulled apart in the best way possible. 

When he resurfaces, God knows how much later, Mats is sprawled back against the soft cushions of the sofa with a lapful of moaning hockey player. Joel has managed to completely unbutton Mats’ shirt so that it’s hanging off his shoulders, which seems like magic considering his hands are currently tangled in Mats’ hair and Mats has no memory of them being elsewhere. For his own part, Mats has rucked up Joel’s soft wool sweater to his armpits and has one hand pressed between his shoulder blades, while the other is kneading Joel’s ass, encouraging him to grind down onto Mats’ lap. 

Mats pulls his mouth away and leans his forehead against Joel’s, breathing deeply in an attempt to restore the oxygen levels in his brain. Joel makes a sad sound at the loss of the kiss before tipping Mats’ head back and nipping at his neck. At the flick of Joel’s tongue, Mats gasps and he holds Joel tighter by reflex. Realising he’s probably going to leave bruises, Mats forces himself to relax his grip and smoothes his hands up and down Joel’s back.

“God, that feels good. I just—oh, shit.” Joel’s tongue finds a particularly sensitive spot below Mats’ ear and he combines it with a particularly filthy swivel of his hips and Mats is suddenly on the edge. “Wait,” he gasps, pulling at Joel. “Stop for a second. I can’t—what do you want? You have to tell me or I’m gonna end up coming in my pants.” That hasn’t happened since he was nineteen, but it reflects the state of his life over the last week that it’s a real possibility right now.

Joel leaves another opened mouth kiss on his throat. In a soft voice, with breath fluttering across Mats’ skin, he asks “Will you fuck me?”

Mats chokes on his tongue. 

It’s another stick-to-the-head moment with Joel, where Mats feels completely blindsided by his forthright confidence, his tendency to say the unexpected. Mats won’t pretend that he hasn’t thought of fucking Joel at some point, but in his fantasies it was something that they worked up to over time. The fact that Joel’s asking Mats to fuck him tonight seems totally incongruous with his admission that he’s never been on a date before now. It makes Mat’s stomach twist with concern, like he’d be taking advantage if he said yes.

He hesitates, not sure how to respond. 

Joel must see something in his face because he adds on, “Only if you want.”

Mats reaches out to still Joel’s hands where they’re petting at his chest. “There’s no rush, Joel. I mean, we can do other things.”

“I know that.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to feel pressured or think that I expect that.”

Joel is looking at him quizzically. “I don’t feel like this. You asked what I want, so I said. But you don’t look like you want to have sex though, and that’s okay. We can do something else.”

Mats sighs, frustrated. This isn’t about him; Mats may not have much experience with men, but he does have experience with sex and relationships, and he knows that it’s easy to get in over your head when things are new and exciting and your brain is being controlled by hormones or phermones or whatever. He’s not doubting that Joel likes him, but he doesn’t want Joel to regret anything simply because he’s approaching sex with the same unbridled enthusiasm he does everything else.

Mats wiggles backwards so he’s sitting upright against the cushions, creating a little distance between them so they can talk about this. 

“Joel, it’s not that. I do want to try that with you, but we have time, you know? Tonight’s just our first date, and we’ll have more, so don’t worry, you don’t have to do that right away. And besides,” he pauses and coughs a little awkwardly. Jesus, when did he get so bad at talking about sex? Embarrassed, he forces himself to continue, “I’ve never had sex with a guy before either, so we can take our time, yeah? It’s not—”

Joel interrupts his rambling explanation. “Mats, do you think I’m a virgin?”

Mats looks at him, confused. “Uh. Yes? You said earlier that you’d never. . .” 

Joel huffs, but he's smiling at Mats like he’s just done something ridiculous. “I said I’ve never been on a date like this before. Like with all the things you see in the movies, fun and thoughtful and romantic things. It’s new to me and I like it. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never done anything before.”

Recalling what Joel had said about Mikko, Mats suddenly feels guilty for making assumptions and treating Joel like some innocent child. “It doesn’t?” he asks.

“No, _sötnos_,” Joel says with a laugh. “I have a boyfriend in school, and there’s, uh, a guy from the Swedish national team that I hook up with sometimes, you know, when we play each other’s teams.” Joel shrugs. “It’s nothing serious. He’s bi like you, and it’s not as scary to do it with each other instead of someone we don’t know. But don’t worry, I won’t anymore now that you and I are together.”

Mats’ stomach drops at that. God, he is an idiot. Not only is Joel not a virgin, he’s apparently got an understanding with one of the other guys in the league. Mats desperately wants to ask who it is—his jealous hindbrain is urging him to sniff around and mark his territory—but he recognises that it’s not his business. 

So Joel has a sexual history. 

Actually, of the two of them, Mats is the least experienced when it comes to sex with men. This sudden role reversal makes Mats feel simultaneously reassured that Joel wasn’t asking for anything he didn’t really want and anxious about how to move forward, now that Joel knows what he’s doing and Mats does not. 

Maybe that’s what this is really about, Mats’ own nerves. Because he is nervous about sleeping with a guy for the first time, and it was easier to hide that nervousness behind his concern for Joel. However, now that he can’t hide anymore, he has to actually confront it. Up until this last week, the idea of sleeping with a guy was vague and disconnected from his actual life, but now he has a very specific man onto whom he can project his fantasies. And with Joel, he is certain that he wants to explore this part of his sexuality. Still, he is nervous, especially about doing things right and about making it good for Joel. 

Joel runs his hands gently across Mats’ chest again to get his attention. “But like you say, there’s lots of things we can do, so if you don’t want to fuck me, then we can find something else. I like what we do so far, and I’d like to suck you. Whatever you want.”

Jesus, Mats wants it all.

He moans as the image of Joel’s lips wrapped around him flashes through his mind again, but now that another seed has been planted, he can’t ignore it. He really wants to fuck Joel. 

He shakes his head, suddenly hard and aching again. “No, I—uh, I want you. If you show me what to do.”

“Yes?” Joel looks surprised at Mats’ change of mind. “Of course I’ll show you,” he murmurs, leaning down to capture Mats' lips again in a sweet kiss. 

“Okay,” Mats says with a deep exhale, nudging Joel’s hip so he’ll climb off his lap. “Let’s move this somewhere else.”

They walk down the hallway, fingers tangled together, Mats’ heart racing. 

When Mats leads him into the bedroom, he has an irrational moment of panic that he’d left a mess behind when he was getting ready earlier, but a quick glance around the room shows everything in its place. 

The air about them is thrumming with energy as they undress, and Mats feels strangely uncoordinated as he tugs at Joel’s sweater. His own shirt, still gaping open from Joel’s earlier ministrations, falls easily from his shoulders. Mats leaves Joel to fight with his skinny jeans, and instead quickly strips out of his own pants and briefs. Once naked, Mats runs an appreciative hand along Joel’s side as he steps around him to locate some lube and a condom from his bedside table. 

He holds them out to Joel like an offering, as though checking one final time that this is what he wants. Joel takes them without hesitation and climbs onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows, and Mats finds it the easiest thing to follow him, to cover Joel’s body with his own and revel in the heat and strength of him. 

“Come here,” Mats murmurs, leaning into Joel for a kiss. Joel’s fingers tangle in his hair, deepening the kiss as he pulls Mats closer, which sufficiently distracts Mats from the nerves fluttering about in his stomach. He feels more centered now that he can kiss Joel and touch his smooth skin. 

For long minutes, they kiss and kiss, hands moving up and down arms, across chests and backs, reacquainting themselves with each others’ bodies, until Mats feels his arousal spiking once more. Below him, Joel is fully hard against Mats’ belly, and Mats rocks against his hip bone to take the edge off. 

Biting off a groan, and shoving away some last vestiges of embarrassment, Mats kisses Joel quickly and says, “Tell me what you need.”

“Your fingers first,” Joel says, rutting his hips up and letting out a little gasp. “Open me up so I’m ready for you.”

“Yeah, okay. Okay.” Mats’ nerves come back and he has to kiss Joel again, slow and intense, before pushing back to kneel between Joel’s long legs. 

Below him, Joel looks relaxed, one hand on the pillow by his head and the other on his belly, just above where his cock lays, flushed and perfect. Mats stares at him in awe. Joel smiles and slowly spreads his legs, his knees falling open to reveal his pink, puckered hole. 

Mats sucks in a breath. “Jesus Christ, Joel. You look so good like this. So fucking good.”

Mats runs his hands down Joel’s inner thighs, enjoying the feel of the sparse hair that covers his legs, and stops when his fingers are nudging against the base of his cock and thumbs resting right below his balls, like he’s a photographer framing the shot. With a slow, shaky sweep of his thumb, Mats lightly brushes over Joel’s entrance. From up on the pillows, Joel moans at the touch and Mats is entranced by the way he tenses and relaxes in response to it. 

“Come on. Do something, Mats,” Joel whines, circling his hips in search of more contact. 

Mats lets out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh and presses a kiss to the inside of Joel’s knee. The lube is on the bed by Joel’s hip so Mats grabs it, rolling it between his hands a few times, staring at it like lube is suddenly a foreign concept and he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Although he’s never done this before, he understands the basic rules of anal sex, and he wants to make sure Joel is prepped properly. Mats may be more nervous about the preparation than he is about the actual sex. Like if he doesn’t do this right, then it could be uncomfortable or even painful for Joel, and that worry is enough to make his hands shake. He wants it to be good.

He must hesitate longer than he thought because Joel pushes up onto his elbow and takes it from him. 

“Like this,” he says, pumping some lube out onto his own fingers and reaching between his legs.  
Mats' mouth goes dry as he watches Joel circle one finger around himself, take a deep breath, and then press the tip in. Joel touches himself easily, confidently, slipping his finger in and out, going deeper with each thrust. His hips are making tiny movements, rocking onto his finger. It looks so gorgeous that Mats can barely breathe and he can’t look away. At some point in the last week, Mats has developed a minor obsession with Joel’s hands, and it’s made that much more intense now watching him finger himself open.

After a few more thrusts, Joel pulls out only to push back in with two fingers and Mats feels the urge to touch him. He runs his index finger along Joel’s rim, feeling it stretch around Joel’s fingers as he moves in and out. Fascinated, Mats continues his exploration of Joel’s body, trailing curious touches along his inner thigh, the rounded flesh of his asscheek, his taint, and then back down to tease along Joel’s fingers and rim. Joel shudders. 

Eventually Mats reaches out to take the lube from Joel and coats his own fingers, tugging at Joel’s wrist. “Let me. Please.”

“Yes,” Joel gasps, and slides his fingers out to grab hold of Mats' hands and guide him into his body. 

Joel is startlingly warm and tight and smooth, and he welcomes Mats in so easily. After a few tentative thrusts, Mats pushes in deeper and is struck dumb by the sight of his fingers moving in and out of Joel's ass. He struggles to form words for a moment and then chokes out, “_Herregud, elskling, du er jævlig flink for meg_,” brain reverting to Norwegian. 

Joel moans so beautifully. “Mats, more. _Snälla, ge mig mer_.” Mats glances up to see Joel’s eyes blown wide and frantic, his breathing heavy. 

“Yeah. Yes, always,” Mats whispers, pushing into him with a third finger. With his other hand, Mats presses Joel’s leg back towards the mattress, spreading him wider and giving himself a better view of where his fingers are working Joel open. Mats has seen enough gay porn to know that prostate stimulation is a thing, so he curls his fingers seeking to locate that spot within Joel. Mats glances up to watch Joel’s face and he gets to witness the moment he finds it because Joel’s eyes snap shut and he arches his back, tossing his head back, throat bared. 

“Yes, there!” Joel gasps. 

Mats feels triumphant. He stokes the inside of Joel’s thigh gently, a counterpoint to the pressure of his fingers inside him. Joel’s dick is leaking all over his stomach and so hard it looks almost painful. Mats takes him in hand and begins to stroke in rhythm with his thrusting fingers, until Joel groans and attempts to curl away from the dual sensations.

“Stop,” Joe whines, “_Stopp, snälla_. It’s too much.”

Mats abruptly freezes. “Sorry,” he says, releasing his grip around Joel’s dick and gentling the movement of his fingers. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no. It was good, really. But if you keep doing that, then I’ll come and I don’t want to do that yet.” 

“Oh! Right, okay. So. . . are you ready?”

Joel gives him a lazy smile. “Yes, babe. I’m very ready for you.”

“Jesus. Okay, good. Same. I mean, me too. Let’s do this.” Mats closes his mouth to stop the nonsensical flood of words bubbling out of him and reaches for the condom with slippery fingers. Once he’s got it on, he has to take a deep breath and try to convince himself to calm down. He’s not a fucking virgin after all. It’s just sex.

_Sex with Joel_, his brain reminds him. Holy fuck. 

Joel pulls him back from this unhelpful thought spiral, softly saying, “Come on, _älskade_.”

Mats nods, determined, and bracing his weight on one arm, he lines himself up and presses the head of his dick past the tight ring of muscle. Joel inhales sharply at the intrusion, but Mats can feel him exhale and relax, allowing Mats to push in until he’s fully surrounded by the tight heat of Joel’s body. One of Joel’s legs curls up over his hip, his heel pressing against the back of Mats’ thigh, pulling him even closer. 

The feeling is intense. All of his nerve-endings are alight and Mats’ chest feels tight like it does after he’s been bag-skated. Before he can even contemplate moving, Mats seeks out Joel’s mouth, kissing him almost desperately and murmuring incoherently against his lips. 

When he feels less like he’s going to fall apart at the seams, Mats starts to move his hips, tiny, hitching thrusts that are far too tentative for the level of arousal coursing through him. Gritting his teeth, he attempts to hold back to give Joel time to adjust, but he doesn’t know how long he can hang on because the tight, hot pressure around his dick is too perfect. 

Joel’s leg is slipping down his hip, so Mats adjusts his arm so he catches Joel’s knee in the crook of his elbow, the weight of his body pushing Joel’s leg back towards his chest, opening him up even more, and Mats thrusts in deeper.

Joel whines at the pressure, turning his face into the pillow. “Mats. _Herregud_.”

“You okay?” Mats gasps, leaning down to press an off-center kiss to Joel’s mouth.

“Yes, yes, of course. You feel so amazing in me.” Joel’s voice is low and breathy, and he releases another whine when Mats thrusts again. The sound of it chases down Mats’ spine, settling low and warm in his belly, spurring him into a steadier motion, picking up the pace of his thrusts. 

“Jesus, Joel. _Faen_, this is. . .” Mats trails off, unable to complete the thought, too focused on the feeling of being inside Joel, the way his hips rise up each time Mats presses in, the small gasps as he inhales, the way his fingers clench against Mats’ biceps. 

His arms start to shake from holding himself up and he has to let go of Joel’s leg so he can lower onto his elbows, chest to chest with Joel. Joel’s erection rubs against Mats’ stomach with every thrust of his hips, precome mixing with sweat between them. Joel pulls him closer as he works his big hands down to grab Mats by the ass, forcing him deeper so his balls sit snugly against Joel. Mats pants against Joel’s neck and grinds his hips down, starting to lose his rhythm.

“Mats, please. Touch me,” Joel gasps into his ear. 

Mats grunts and manages to roll to the side just enough to work his right hand between them and take hold of Joel, fisting over his dick with the same erratic movement of his hips. He really hopes something about this is working for Joel because as much as he wants to make it good, he’s too lost in chasing his own release. 

He doesn’t have long to worry because soon Joel is crying out and coming all over Mats’ fingers. As his orgasm rolls through him, Joel clenches around Mats like a vice and it only takes two more thrusts before Mats is thrown over the cliff himself, pulsing so hard it’s like there’s a buzzer in his brain and he fills the condom for what feels like long minutes. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mats gasps out, kissing Joel’s throat, and then just resting his head against Joel’s jaw, breathing wetly against his damp skin.

Joel’s hands skitter across his back, coming to rest lightly on his ribs, and he nods, humming out a satisfied noise.

They lay in silence for a minute, catching their breath, and then Mats gently works his hips back, slipping out of Joel, who sucks in a breath at the loss.

“Are you okay?” Mats whispers, pushing up so he can look into Joel’s face, smoothing sweaty curls back from his forehead.

Joel’s lips turn up into a soft smile. “’M good. Are you good? You were so good,” Joel mumbles, all sleepy and sated and dopey.

Mats laughs fondly. “I’m good. You were so good, too.”

Joel just nods and leans up to kiss Mats. He misses his mouth, smacking a kiss off Mats’ chin instead, and then melts back into the pillows, closing his eyes.

Mats watches him for a second, running his thumb over Joel’s cheekbone, before dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Be right back," he says, heaving himself off the bed to dispose of the condom in the bathroom and dampen a hand towel to run over Joel’s stomach. 

Once they’re cleaned up, Mats maneuvers Joel beneath the covers and climbs in next to him, turning off the lamp and pulling Joel back against his chest. Joel lets out a contented sigh and relaxes into Mats’ embrace. Mats presses his nose into the curls at the back of Joel’s neck and breathes him in, feeling slightly overwhelmed by what they’d just shared and the fact that he gets to have Joel cuddled up in his arms like this. 

“_Tusen takk_,” Mats whispers.

—

Mats wakes up hours later, pillowed against Joel’s chest, one leg thrown over his thick thigh. He feels wonderfully relaxed and strangely awake for the middle of the night. In the faint light filtering through from the hallway, he can see that Joel is dead to the world though, and his mouth is slightly open, causing a faint whistle every time he exhales. It’s not remotely sexy, but Mats can't help but find him adorable anyway.

He trails a finger down Joel’s chest and marvels, once again, at how hairless he is, wondering if it’s just that he doesn’t grow chest hair (Mats’ brain helpfully supplies yet?) or if he waxes. When Mats rubs the pad of his finger over Joel’s flat, brown nipple, Joel stirs and he blinks his eyes open with a groan.

“_Är det morgon_?” Joel asks with a confused frown.

Mats smiles, resuming his exploration of Joel’s chest. “No, not yet, _søten_. Sorry to wake you.” 

“It’s okay,” he says, stretching and pushing his chest up into Mats’ hand. “That feels nice.”

“Mmm,” Mats agrees. He traces nonsensical patterns across Joel’s skin, working his way down Joel’s torso, across his abdomen and his hip. Beneath his head, Mats can feel Joel’s breathing even out and he thinks he’s fallen back asleep, but then Joel wraps his hand around Mats’ wrist, stilling his movements.

“C'mere. Kiss?” Joel asks, and Mats can’t refuse him.

They kiss, long and slow in the darkness, and then Joel is gone, slipping down his body and engulfing Mats in the warm wetness of his mouth. Mats groans and wishes he could see better, so he would know if Joel’s lips look as good stretched around his dick as he imagined they would. Next time he’ll make sure to have a light on so that—

But then Joel sucks harder and the wish is lost to the night. Joel takes his time. Any sense of urgency is dampened by the hushed silence of the late hour and Mats sighs blissfully, twining his fingers in Joel’s curls as Joel takes him apart.

His skin feels strangely tight and sensitive, everything too close to the surface, like Joel will leave behind fingerprints like brands where his hands are sliding over Mats’ body. Mats can trace their slow path across his skin and he wants to feel his touch everywhere. The thought summons a memory from earlier in the night of Mats’ hands on Joel’s body, slippery fingers opening him up and jerking him off at the same time, and suddenly Mats wants that in reverse, to feel Joel’s long fingers breach him while continuing the tortuous suction on his dick. 

Despite the haze of arousal clouding his brain, Mats manages to choke out some words that must get the point across because soon he feels slick fingers at his entrance, pressing in and rubbing gently inside of him until a spark of pleasure shoots through his veins and Mats is coming and coming, harder than he ever has before, into Joel’s mouth.

Joel presses a soft kiss to Mats’ hip bone and then scoots back up the bed, entangling their legs and cuddling Mats close. When Mats murmurs about returning the favour, Joel just shushes him and darkness nudges at the corners of his consciousness and pulls him back under into sleep. 

—

The weak sunlight is shining when Mats next opens his eyes. He fumbles with his phone on the nightstand and peers blearily at the time—it's almost eight-thirty; they’ll need to start getting ready for practice soon. There’s also a WhatsApp notification from his brother so he unlocks the screen.

//So. . . how’d it go with romancing Eks?//

Mats glances over his shoulder to where Joel is still sleeping and eases out of the bed, locating his underwear on the floor and pulling it on as he wanders down the hall to the kitchen.

He gets the coffee brewing and then opens his phone again to respond to Fabian.

//Yeah, good. Just about to make him breakfast.//

Fabian replies immediately. //Get it, big bro!// He follows up this message with a combination of emojis that makes Mats’ blush, roll his eyes and turn off his phone.

—

Mats is hobbling around the hotel room like an old man. He’d taken a hard hit from Kempny in last night’s game against the Caps and once again his back is fucked. Thank God tomorrow’s game versus the Preds isn’t important because otherwise he’d feel guilty for being a scratch. As it stands, they clinched the first wild card spot last week, so this trip is much more relaxed than it might have been, given that the Preds were also in contention for a while there.

It’s also a nice break from winter. When they’d left Minnesota for this last roadie, there was still snow on the ground. Nashville, in comparison, is in full on spring-mode. Trees budding, flowers blooming, bursts of gorgeous colors everywhere, the whole nine yards. It doesn’t make his back hurt any less, but it makes for a nice view outside his window.

He carefully makes his way to the bathroom to get some meds.

“_Ghostbusters_?” Joel asks from the bed. He’d arrived five minutes ago and tasked himself with finding something to watch.

“Nah,” Mats calls back, fishing out the bottle of Ibuprofen from his travel kit. 

“_When Harry Met Sally_?”

“What? No.”

“_Mystic Pizza_?”

Mats pauses, hand holding the pills halfway to his mouth. “What is that?”

“Um, Julia Roberts working at a pizza place or something?”

“Next.”

It’s quiet for a second and then Joel shouts, “_Crocodile Dundee_?”

Mats swallows the Ibuprofen and makes his way back into the hotel room. Joel is sprawled against the headboard, flicking through movies on Netflix. Mats looks at the TV screen for a moment, suspicious.

“What is this playlist?” he finally asks, turning to pin Joel with a stare.

Joel smiles beatifically at him and says, “Movies from the 1980s. You were alive then, yes?”

“You are such a dick. I was two when the 80s ended,” he gripes, marching over to Joel and swiping the remote from his hand. “Give me that.”

He turns back to the TV, quickly closing out of the 80s playlist and searching for something decent to watch. Sometimes the number of options available on Netflix bewilders him and Mats ends up flicking endlessly through the lists, never able to choose. He’s focused on the task of choosing something until Joel’s hand closes around his wrist and tugs.

“Come here,” Joel says, and pulls Mats gently onto the bed, careful not to jostle him too much. Mats keeps searching for a movie as Joel arranges him so that he is slotted between Joel’s legs and snugged back against his chest. Mats settles in, wiggling until he’s comfortable.

“How about _The Bourne Identity_?”

Joel hooks his chin over Mats’ shoulder and Mats can feel him shrug against his back. “I don’t really care. That’s fine.”

“You sure?” Mats asks, selecting the movie but waiting to press play.

“Yes, it’s fine. Matt Damon is cute.”

Mats snorts and elbows Joel in the thigh. “Shut up.”

“What? He is! You don’t think he is cute?”

Mats clicks play. “Yeah, all right, he was kind of cute.”

Joel kisses his neck and Mats lets his head fall back against Joel’s shoulder as the opening credits flick across the screen.

They get five minutes into the movie, Joel’s arms wrapped loosely around his stomach, fingers fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, the movement tickling Mats’ side ever so slightly, when there’s a knock on his door.

“Who’s that?” Joel asks in Mats’ ear.

Mats shakes his head. “No idea. Probably one of the boys.” He extricates himself from Joel and carefully gets off the bed to answer the knock. 

It’s Eric, who gives him a surprised smile when he opens the door. “You are here!”

“What? Yeah, of course,” Mats says. Where else would he be?

“You haven’t been answering our texts so we thought you might have gone out,” Eric explains, looking unbothered as he continues, “We’re playing cards in Hartsy’s room if you want to come?”

From the bed, Joel asks, “Who is it?” 

“Staalsy,” Mats calls over his shoulder.

Eric eyes widen and he pushes past Mats into the room. “You hanging with Ekker? Hey, buddy, Brodes is looking for you.”

“Well, you can tell him I am here,” Joel says, pausing the movie.

Mats wonders if Eric thinks it’s strange that the two of them are here when everyone else is hanging out together. Maybe they should be more social, but Joel doesn’t really like large groups and with Mats’ back acting up again, a movie on their own was the more appealing option.

“Yeah, can do,” Eric replies. “Sure you don’t want to play cards?”

Mats looks over at Joel and asks a question with his eyes. Joel shakes his head minutely. “No, we’re good, man. Just going to watch a movie and chill, I think,” Mats says, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks though.”

“Okay, cool. See you guys later,” Eric says and departs with a wave.

When he’s gone, Mats releases a breath, suddenly aware of how fast his heart is beating.

“Do you think he knows?” Joel asks, eyes wide.

It’s not like they’ve been particularly careful about hiding the fact that they are spending time together, but they also hadn’t explicitly told anyone about their relationship besides Jonas and Mikko, and so far they’ve been willing to keep Mats and Joel’s secret. And while Eric hadn’t seemed particularly suspicious of the fact that they were hanging out, Eric pretends to be oblivious to a lot of things if it suits him, but he couldn’t have been a captain for as long as he was without knowing how to sniff out team drama.

“He said the guys have been texting us,” Mats says in reply and wanders over to grab his phone from where it’s still tucked away in his jacket pocket. When he pulls up the team group chat, he sees that he’s missed thirty-seven messages and quickly scans through them. Most of them are making plans for what they want to do and whose room they’re going to use, but the more recent messages are trying to round up the strays, which include Greg and Jared, as well as Mats and Joel. 

While he’s reading, another message pops up. This one from Eric.

//Found Zucc and Ekker. They’re busy.//

Mats groans. Eric definitely knows.

Jordan is the first to reply: //Busy doing what???//

//u sure you want an answer 2 that question bud?// Al texts back.

And great, Al knows, too.

“Um,” Mats says, staring at his phone in embarrassment. “I think the guys know, or if they don’t, then it’s about to become really fucking obvious.”

“What?”

He walks back to the bed and sits down by Joel’s hip, tipping the phone so Joel can see the latest messages. They stare at the phone for a minute. Then Joel starts to giggle, followed quickly by Mats, as more confused and innuendo-laden messages from their teammates begin to appear.

“Should we put an end to the speculation?” Mats asks, for once feeling brave.

Joel looks at him, expression soft and hopeful. “You want to do that?”

Mats takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I do. Better than letting them continue to gossip, right?”

“Okay, let’s do it,” Joel says with a grin. “Come back here.” He opens his arms and Mats climbs onto the bed, settling against Joel’s chest once more. Stretching out his arm, he takes a selfie of them, grinning at the camera, heads tipped together, and obviously in a bed. He posts it in the group chat before he can chicken out. He quickly adds //Leave us alone. It’s date night.// and then tosses his phone across the bed, where it buzzes almost continuously for ten minutes.

They ignore it.

Mats turns up the volume on the TV, Joel laughs, bright and carefree, and kisses Mats’ cheek, and then they settle in to watch Matt Damon get chased across Europe.

**Author's Note:**

> To end, some links to images and videos that are referenced in this fic:  
\- [The pic that inspired it all](https://www.instagram.com/p/B9Mufihp2u6/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)  
\- [Joel learning how to say ‘oh, for cute’ (and it is pretty darn cute)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yTvU4urOp4)  
\- [Jonas making fun of his teammates’ hair](https://www.instagram.com/tv/B9Ub44aJWUk/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)  
\- [The clip that inspired the scene where Mats jumps into Joel’s arms (except it was actually into Marcus Foligno’s arms)](https://www.instagram.com/p/B9TH5i0pai3/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)
> 
> And just because I love them so much, here are the links to: [Joel’s episode of Becoming Wild](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPGOH-NWJl0) and [Mats’ episode of Becoming Wild](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4CwJ4JlLUQ)
> 
> (Apologies if any of the Sweish or Norwegian is terrible. I don’t speak either language, so if anything needs to be fixed, please let me know!)


End file.
